


Philotimo

by anastiel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blood and Injury, Canon Universe, Canon-Typical Violence, Caretaking, Dean/Cas Pinefest 2019, Explicit Sexual Content, First Time, Gratuitous Hand Holding, Human Castiel (Supernatural), Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Injury Recovery, M/M, Mutual Pining, POV Alternating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-14
Updated: 2019-03-14
Packaged: 2019-11-15 22:50:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 31,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18082442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anastiel/pseuds/anastiel
Summary: When one of his first hunts after becoming human again ends in injury, Castiel is faced with the helplessness of his mortality. Through it all Dean is a constant presence at his side, ever the attentive caregiver, which only serves to increase the tension growing between them.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [art](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18109937) by [Lyselkatz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lysel/pseuds/Lysel) . It was such a pleasure to work with you!!! 
> 
> I am incredibly happy to post this work of my heart. I wrote this during Nanowrimo and fleshed it out in the months following. This is my first long Dean/Cas fic in years. These two mean so much to me and I tried to reflect that in this story. <3
> 
> Special thanks to [Bexy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/inplayruns/works) and [Ash](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoversAntiquities/pseuds/LoversAntiquities) for beta'ing for me and helping me throughout this process like the awesome friends they are. Also thanks to [Sam](http://daenw.tumblr.com/) for reading this essentially while I wrote it and keeping me encouraged to finish it.
> 
> Philotimo - a list of virtues that include honor, dignity and pride, the ideal actions and behaviours, hospitality, and warmth received by another.

Sam, Dean, and Cas have been following the pack for the past three days as the group made their way south from Colorado Springs, stopping in Creede, Colorado. It’s a group of six – two women and four men – disguised as a biker gang, but all werewolves once the moon comes up. Despite the fact that they’re outnumbered by three, it’s a relatively routine case; Dean and Sam don’t worry about it, so Cas tries not to either. He _is_ worried about being significantly less help in his now human state, but he _does_ at least know what he’s doing.

Dean is clearly not worried about Cas’ ability or lack thereof. He’s played “Werewolves of London” six times since they got on the hunt. The petulant glare Sam shoots Dean every single time the first few notes echo out of the speakers is worth having to suffer through the song again. Right now, twenty minutes outside of Creede, Cas is unable to help his laughter from the backseat as Dean plays it again and Sam groans in annoyance.

“C’mon Sammy, gotta have a little fun sometimes,” Dean remarks with a chuckle, meeting Cas’ eyes in the rearview mirror and grinning.

“You’ve played it six times, Dean!”

“Yeah, so? It’s funny.”

Sam grumbles in response, but he’s smiling and lets out a heavy sigh. “So what’s the plan then?”

“I was thinking after we figure out where they’ve set their camp up, we could get something to eat. We have about six hours before nightfall and they tend to split up during the day and reconvene at night to go out together. Our best bet is to find where they’re hiding out and then get in as they start to change and clean ‘em out before they leave to hunt for the night.”

“Sounds good, whataya think Cas?” Sam asks, turning his head to look at Cas over his shoulder.

“Are we using silver bullets or angel blades?” Cas asks.

“I was thinking both, just in case we lose one. Better to go in packing when we’re outnumbered, ya know?” Dean answers.

“Are you sure we don’t need backup?” Cas asks.

Dean meets Cas’ eyes in the mirror again and frowns when he sees the concern Cas’ can feel written blatantly across his face.

“I guess I’m not _sure,_ no, but we’ve killed more with few of us before so I think we should be fine. You got this, buddy.”

Dean smiles soft and small, just for him, and Cas’ heart flutters deep inside his chest.

Dean pulls into the outskirts of Creede ten minutes later, obligatorily slowing down to the speed limit of 25 as they cruise through the three-stoplight town and head straight up towards Bachelor’s Loop and the secluded, abandoned mines. If there ever was a place for werewolves to hide, it would be somewhere along this road. When Cas left Colorado Springs with Sam and Dean, they had been maybe ten minutes behind the group, trailing them at a distance just visible enough to be able to tell what city they were going to wind up in. Cas peers out the window now, Dean and Sam doing the same as the car slows down, passing dirt roads that shoot off to the side of the main one, out into the trees, curving around towards the mines.

Cas spots multiple rows of single wheeled tracks heading down Wildflower Rd, and says, “Dean, to the right.”

Dean jerks his head towards the road in question and pulls over. Sam jumps out first and jogs over to where the concrete stops and the dirt begins. He crouches down and runs his fingers over the tire tracks.

“Looks like they’re 180s so I’d say it’s probably them,” Sam says, standing back up.

“They could be trying to throw us off,” Dean replies.

Sam nods. “Want me to go check? I can at least get close enough to see if it’s their bikes.”

“You think you can do it subtly though, Sam? You’re like a tree,” Dean retorts with a huff.

“I’ll just blend in,” Sam says with a grin. “Give me five, if I’m not back by then come find me.”

“Alright,” Dean agrees, tossing a gun through the open passenger door to Sam, who catches it easily and sticks it down the back of his jeans, and heads down the road. Cas watches him leave;  Sam sticks to walking along the dirt trail, weaving between the trees, taking it slow and stepping carefully around branches.

Dean keeps the music off while Sam’s gone, and rotates in his seat to face Cas, arm stretching across the back of the seat.

“You getting hungry?” Dean asks, a seemingly casual question for anyone except for the fact this is the third time since breakfast Dean has asked him.

“I’m starting to, but just a little. I’m okay, Dean,” Cas says with a little smile.

Ever since two months ago when Cas came back to the Bunker from a seemingly normal visit to Heaven, he was different. Cas made the decision not to tell Dean right away that he was human. It wasn’t that he was ashamed, it’s that - he did it, at least partially, because of Dean. And knowing Dean as he does, he didn’t want Dean to blame himself or feel guilty about a decision that Castiel made on his own. When the time came, Dean flat out asked him late one evening while they were having a few beers and watching an episode of _Game of Thrones_.

“They said they couldn’t trust me if I couldn’t be available when they needed me. They asked me to choose, so I chose.”

“Cas,” Dean had said, voice cutting off halfway through Cas’ name.

“Dean, it’s okay. I knew this was coming eventually, I wanted this.”

“Did you, _really?_ ”

“Really. Even though last time was not... an ideal circumstance, and as much as I enjoyed having my grace back so I could be useful to you, there are things I missed, things I craved that I couldn’t fully feel as an angel. There are some things you can only truly experience as a human, and I wanted that back.”

Dean didn’t say much after that, but Cas could tell in the downward slant of his shoulders and the heavy weight on them that he knew, at least partially, why Cas gave up his grace. Cas didn’t tell Dean the truth, the big _I’m in love with you_. That’s not something he can just tell Dean over a few beers and an episode of television.

“There’s a diner I saw driving in, MJ’s I think, looks promising -- they have lots of burgers,” Dean says now, bringing Cas back to the Impala in the middle of the Colorado wilderness.

“I do love burgers, though I’ve yet to find one that outdoes yours,” Cas says, and feels his heart do a little flip in his chest when Dean’s face turns a gentle shade of pink and he huffs out a pleased laugh.

“Flattery will get you everywhere, Cas.”

“I sure hope so,” Cas answers, completely serious, but as expected Dean takes it as a joke and snorts.

Dean looks up again and sees Sam coming back towards the car brandishing a thumbs up and a grin.

“I’m guessing that means you found them,” Dean says, as Sam slides back into the passenger seat.

“Yep, all passed out and waiting for nightfall,” Sam says. “Should be a piece of cake to take them out.”

“Awesome,” Dean answers, and brings the Impala to life.

In five minutes they’re seated at MJ’s, Dean next to Cas on one side of the booth and Sam across from them flipping through the menu with furrowed eyebrows. Cas has already decided on a Build-a-Burger option with onions, mushrooms, mustard, and ketchup.

“Mushrooms, onions, ketchup _and_ mustard? Cas, that’s gross and it definitely won’t be better than mine,” Dean says, squinting at him in distaste.

“I don’t expect it to be, but there are a lot of flavors which is why I want to try it.”

“Hmm, well you can have your weird burger and Sam can have his fancy salad, I’ll stick to flavors that actually go together.”

Despite his protests at Cas’ burger, Dean is still enamored with the fact that they even have a Build-A-Burger option and is taking extra time to look through all the choices before he decides. Cas watches him, amused at Dean’s excitement. The booth they’re sitting in is small and Dean’s thigh presses against his, warm and incredibly distracting. Cas decides to focus on sipping at his ginger ale instead, a new drink he hadn’t explored the first time as a human and that he truly enjoys. It’s tart and bubbles against his tongue in a nice way, smoother than cola and better-tasting than beer.

Cas has found that focusing on other sensations to take away from the ones he needs to be distracted from is a neat human trick whenever he gets overwhelmed.

Dean ends up ordering a mostly basic burger, with mushrooms, onions, and bacon. He gets condiments on the side and tells Cas it blends better that way. When their food does arrive - chef salad for Sam, and burgers for Dean and Cas - Cas finds that Dean _was_ very right to take the condiments off his burger. While ketchup and mustard mix well together, that combo with mushrooms _is_ rather gross.

He must make some sort of face as he takes the first bite because Dean turns to look at him, mouth twitching in amusement, and asks, “That bad huh?”

“I’m sure it could be an acquired taste,” Cas replies, just to be obstinate. He is still going to eat it; he made this decision and his stomach is growling.

Dean laughs and continues eating, but silently pushes a few of his own fries onto Cas’ plate to make up for his gross burger. Cas doesn’t comment on it, knows Dean would prefer he didn’t, but it warms him on the inside and he makes sure to eat those specific fries last. Sentimental over fries, that’s a new one.

Sam pays, and they head back out to the car. It’s golden hour now, the sun making its descent in the sky, turning everything the light touches a soft orange. Dean pulls them into an empty alleyway a few blocks down from the restaurant so they can prep all the weapons out of civilian eyesight. Cas watches Dean load their guns with silver bullets, the sun catching his profile just right that it makes the freckles dotted across his cheeks stand out in the glow. Cas doesn’t realize he’s staring until Sam bumps his arm with his elbow and hands him an angel blade.

They all throw on an extra layer to fend off the chill that is creeping up with the night. Cas has found over the past few days that Colorado is tempermental when it comes to weather, warm one minute and freezing the next. The plaid shirt he throws on over his other one is woolen, dark blue and black, one of his favorites, he always feels comfortable and warm when he wears it.

“All ready?” Dean asks, tossing one of the now-loaded guns back into the trunk.

“I am,” Cas answers.

“Yep, all good,” Sam agrees.

Sunset is happening all around them, the sky and clouds turning dark orange and bright pink, the moon trading places with the sun. Dean revs the engine as he heads out, down the main street and back out into the mountains. He pulls over onto the shoulder, a quarter of a mile down from the gravel road that heads to the werewolves’ camp, and parks.

“We’re gonna wait until the sun is all the way down just to make sure they’re fully turned or at least starting before we head in,” Dean says.

“Two each?” Sam asks, and Cas nods in agreement.

“Yeah, probably smartest that way.”

They all head around to the trunk, and start gathering their various weapons. Cas slips the gun into the waistband of his jeans, and keeps his angel blade clenched tight in his hand. He can shoot just fine, but he will always be more comfortable with his angel blade. Dean and Sam grab guns, hiding their own angel blades Cas gave to them many years ago into their sleeves.

Dean slams the trunk shut, the only other sound amongst the quiet chattering of birds and animals bedding down for the night. Cas’ breath comes out in white puffs, and he watches the deep orange of the sunset highlight Dean’s face. He looks calm, but Cas notices there’s a quiet storm brewing underneath his eyes as he scans the car, the surrounding area, then swivels back to Sam and Cas.

“Ready?” Dean asks.

“Yep,” Sam answers, with a quirk of his mouth. He heads off towards the forest with near-silent steps.

Dean’s palm presses warm against Cas’ shoulder, and Cas turns to look at him. He finds Dean staring at him with a soft expression, eyes crinkling around the edges. His fingertips clench at the fabric of Cas’ flannel, and he smiles.

“You got this, buddy. Sam and I got your back, just like always.”

“Thank you, Dean.”

Dean pats his shoulder twice, warmth lingering even after he’s a dozen or so feet ahead of Cas. Cas sucks in a deep, shuddery breath and follows.

They cut through the forest, near the same path that Sam followed earlier, sticking to the deer trails as much as possible to avoid the extra crunch of underbrush under their feet. The werewolves are in the process of turning, and will not be hyper-focused on the noises surrounding their camps, but it’s always better to err on the side of caution.

Twenty feet in front of him, Sam holds up his hand, signaling for them to stop, so Cas does. Sam waves his hand to the right, and crouches low, sneaking behind a cluster of bushes on the edge of where the treeline opens into a small clearing. Cas can’t see much with the darkness, but he sees a flickering lamp on the porch of a small ramshackle cabin, no doubt abandoned, but a good hiding place for a couple of nights. He can make out silhouettes moving in the glow, snarling and pacing across the dirt-covered area. Perfect timing. Cas presses in close next to Dean as they all crowd together in their hiding spot.

“I got the two near the door, Sam, you take the two closer to the back clearing, and Cas, take the ones round the backside of the cabin.”

Sam nods along with Cas in agreement and Cas watches Dean intently, waiting for the signal.

Once it comes, Cas continues along the treeline to the right, watching as Sam and Dean head forward, into the light, and vulnerable now where he isn’t - at least not yet. Cas spots his two werewolves, both fully changed now, prowling together along the backside of the cabin and talking. Cas stays hidden until he’s within a good distance to make a quick attack, knowing now more than ever that he has one chance to get it right.

Cas bursts out of the forest, darting towards the werewolves, who spot him and respond with a pair of resounding deep growls. He ducks down as one makes a move towards his head and jabs to the left, catching the female in the leg. She whimpers in pain, more dog-like than human, and swipes at him. Cas jumps away and shoots out his right arm to the side, stabbing her straight through the heart with his angel blade. She crumples to the ground with a heavy thump, and a weak scream. Her partner is enraged, and comes at Cas with new vengeance. He’s ready though and the two of them stalk around each other in a circle, before the werewolf releases a high-pitched scream, almost like a summoning call, and rushes towards Cas, claws and teeth bared.

“Cas, there’s another one coming around the side,” Cas hears Dean yell from the front of the cabin.

He gets a brief chance to see another male werewolf rushing towards him before the two are on him in unison; it’s all he can do to stay on his feet and away from swiping claws. He digs his gun out of his pants, tosses his blade to his left hand, and shoots the one closest to him at point blank range right in the face. It goes down with a guttural groan.

Cas doesn’t have time to process before the other werewolf digs his claws deep into the upper part of Cas’ shoulder and tosses him through the air. His left leg smacks hard, against the tree, and Cas hears what he thinks is a twig snapping before pain starts blazing through his leg and he realizes the sound was him.

He falls a couple feet away from the tree, whimpering audibly in pain, and tries to move, but he can’t stand up. The werewolf is still coming, teeth a twisted cheshire cat smile as it stalks toward him. Cas isn’t thinking straight, but he still has his angel blade grasped tightly in his hand. When the werewolf jumps on top of him Cas is ready, pushing past the pain and shock radiating throughout his body, and stabs his blade home, right through the beast’s heart. It screams in anguish, and Cas uses the little strength he has left to push its corpse off of his body.

Cas takes a few deep breaths, trying to calm himself down, and sits up the best he can. He groans as he does, sharp burning not only coming from his leg, but also from his chest. Cas looks down and sees five jagged claw marks through his shredded shirt oozing blood.

Shit.

“Dean?!” Cas yells, as loud as he can. It comes out more strangled than he’d like, but he can only hope Dean hears him. His head starts to spin, the single light from the cabin a couple hundred feet away turning into two and then three. He needs to lie back down. Cas lets his eyelashes flutter shut briefly, and then blink open again when he hears the quiet padding of footsteps coming towards him.

“Cas?! Oh my god,” Dean says, and through his bleary eyes Cas can see him, practically frantic, as he skids to a stop and falls to his knees beside Cas.

“Sam!” Dean yells, turning his head back, and then refocuses in on Cas, eyes darting everywhere as he takes in Cas’ leg and the wound on his chest.

“What happened?”

“Grabbed me and threw me against a tree. I think my leg is broken,” Cas explains shakily.

Dean’s hands skim down Cas’ leg and he presses lightly when he gets to Cas’ calf, stopping immediately when Cas hisses out in pain. He moves back up to Cas’ chest and examines the wound, tearing open Cas’ shirt and pushing it back off his shoulder.

“Shit, that looks deep. Not deadly, but it ain’t good,” Dean mutters. He pulls off his own flannel, fashions it into the shape of a gauze pad, and presses it down firmly against Cas’ wound.

“Can you hold it with your good hand?” Dean asks, and Cas nods, reaching up and pressing down firmly, biting his lip against a moan that tries to leave his mouth.

“Keep as much pressure on it as you can, okay? I’m gonna need to splint your leg.”

Dean looks calm, and Cas is amazed at his demeanor until he notices the briefest tremble in Dean’s hands.

Sam comes running around the cabin, and crouches down next to Cas on the opposite side of Dean.

“Cas,” he breathes out, visibly worried, and then immediately turns to Dean. “What do you need?”

Dean is pulling off Cas’ boots and socks, pressing a finger to the hollow of Cas’ ankle in search of a pulse for the sake of circulation. He doesn’t look up at Sam when he replies, “Two thick sticks, about a foot and a half long, and your shirt.”

Sam shrugs out of his shirt quickly, leaving it next to Dean on the dirt, and takes off at a jog into the woods. Dean starts tearing off long strips of his and Sam’s shirts, until they fall in ribbons  onto the forest floor beneath him.

“Keep breathing, Cas. I know it hurts, but we don’t want you going into shock, okay? Focus on me, and breathe,” Dean says, voice soft.

Cas does. He keeps his gaze on Dean’s face and the quick movements of his hands as Dean starts slipping the small strips of fabric underneath Cas’ knee, sliding them underneath his leg until they are evenly spaced apart and ready for the sticks.

Breathe in, breathe out. Focus on Dean, not the pain.

Once Dean is finished, he sits back on his heels, keeping his palm on the curve of Cas’ ankle and smiling. It’s a shaky one, but Cas is thankful for it nonetheless. “You’re gonna be fine,” he says, and Cas isn’t sure if it’s more of a reassurance for himself or for Cas.

The gentle press of Dean’s palm against his skin takes Cas’ mind off the pain, and he zeros in on it, lets it fill him as they both wait amongst the creaking of the forest for Sam to come back.

They hear Sam long before they see him, the loud increase of crunching that sounds like a bear barreling towards them, as Sam comes out of the forest, two nearly straight sticks clenched tight in his hand. He gives them to Dean and falls to his knees next to Cas, pressing a comforting hand onto Cas’ good shoulder.

Dean gets right to work, lining up the sticks with the sides of Cas’ leg and tying everything together. He checks his work by slipping two fingers underneath one of the ties and looks up, nodding at Sam.

“Alright, let’s get you up. Can you sit?”

Cas nods and does, cringing as heat sears down his calf.

“Good, okay, Sam and I are gonna get you to your feet and then we’ll figure out where to go from there.”

Sam moves behind Cas and gets a solid grip underneath his arms, while Dean goes to Cas’ good side, placing his hands on Cas’ sides. On the count of three, they lift him to his feet. Cas is shaky as he gets his bearing, completely relying on both of them to help him stay up as his good hand is still putting pressure on his chest wound.

Sam takes a step back, but keeps his hands on Cas’ shoulders. Dean doesn’t move, palms still splayed across Cas’ sides. The entire time, Dean keeps his gaze on Cas’ face.

“I’m gonna carry you.”

“Are you sure? It’s a long way back,” Sam asks.

“If he puts his arm around me, it's gonna aggravate the other wound,” Dean answers.

“Okay, I’ll go ahead of you to make sure the path is clear,” Sam says.

Dean moves his hands, adjusting one arm to the middle of Cas’ back. “I’m gonna need you to wrap your arms around my neck.”

Cas does, and finds himself unable to breathe again from a combination of the continuous pain and Dean’s face being inches from his.

“You ready? On three.”

Dean lifts him a lot easier than Cas thought he would, but he can tell it’s a bit of a strain when Dean puffs out a sigh against the side of Cas’ neck.

“Hold on tight.”

Cas nods, and interlocks his fingers where they’re joined at the back of Dean’s neck. Cas isn’t sure if it’s because he’s injured and vulnerable, but he allows himself to turn his head just the slightest bit and bury his face in the crook of Dean’s neck.

“I got you,” Dean whispers, and Cas feels the emotion in Dean’s voice hit him like a brick. It’s all he can do to stop himself from pressing his lips to the side of Dean’s neck.

Dean is struggling by the time they get to the car, and he pauses, waiting for Sam to open all of the back doors.

“If this is gonna keep happening, you’re gonna need to work out some more,” Dean says.

“I’m too heavy for you?” Cas asks.

“Yeah, you got too much muscle, buddy, I can’t handle it,” Dean teases.

That makes Cas laugh into the side of Dean’s neck, which was probably Dean’s intention.

“Well, I wouldn’t want to be too much for you,” Cas replies.

Dean turns to him, mouth twitching into a smirk, despite the worry present in his eyes.

He puts Cas down slowly, right next to the back of the Impala, and waits until he’s sure Cas doesn’t have a headrush. Then he says, “Sit down, and Sam’s gonna pull you back into the car so your leg can be straight on the seat.”

Cas sits, and watches Dean look at him. He’s practically vibrating with restless energy. Sam grips gently under his arms, and says, “Ready?” He waits for Cas’ nod and then slowly starts pulling him back onto the seat. Dean guides his hurt leg, making sure nothing bends the wrong way. Sam stops a few inches from the door and closes it more gently than usual.

Dean pats Cas’ ankle once, gives him a gentle smile, and then closes the door, jogging around the car back to the driver’s seat. He revs the engine as the Impala comes to life and says some sort of mumbled nonsense to Sam about the nearest hospital.

“Says 40 minutes, it’s in Del Norte,” Sam replies.

“I’ll make it in 25,” Dean answers firmly, and pulls out onto the highway.

Cas closes his eyes and rests his head back against the cool of the window behind him. His arm is resting on the back of the seat behind Sam, more comfortable that way with the wound on his upper chest. His leg aches something awful, sharp pains radiating throughout his entire calf, and he really hopes they won’t have to do surgery. The idea of having to deal with anesthesia sounds terrifying. He tries to focus on the rumble of the car beneath him instead, and the soft sounds of Zeppelin drifting out of the speaker.

They’ve not been on the road longer than five minutes when Cas feels fingertips brush against his on the back of the seat. He opens his eyes and finds Dean’s arm resting on the seat, hand outstretched towards Cas. Cas smiles and feels his chest tighten with a rush of emotion. He reaches his hand out as much as he can and tangles Dean’s fingers with his. He watches Dean’s face, and sees his mouth twitch, and then Dean squeezes his fingers.

Cas focuses on the feeling of Dean’s fingers trapped between his, clings tight, and drowns out the pain.


	2. Chapter 2

The hospital takes him back immediately, mostly because Dean wouldn’t have let them wait. Dean and Sam both stay by Cas’ side, even though his injuries are not nearly life-threatening. He’s glad they do, especially when Dean takes Cas’ hand in his as the nurses stitch up the wound on Cas’ chest. It hurts, even with the pain medication they gave him, and he squeezes Dean’s hand when it all gets to be too much. He’s comforted by Dean’s closeness, the gentleness of his actions, but he also feels guilty for it at the same time. Guilty of his own inexplicable weakness. 

There is no surgery needed, but they cast his leg. Cas has to keep his leg up and stay off of it for the next six weeks, which all things considered is minor compared to what could have happened. The doctor says that once he feels comfortable doing so he can walk around in crutches but, with the depth of his wound, he suggests that Cas take it easy. 

Dean gives Cas one of his old loose t-shirts and a flannel to wear, since all of his shirts were tore through from the werewolf’s claws. The clothing smells like Dean, and Cas likes the fact that he can smell Dean on him probably way more than he should. 

Sam wheels him out to the car in a wheelchair, which Cas finds incredibly humiliating, but Dean makes jokes about it being his new car. 

“I get to call you gimpy now,” Dean teases, and then chuckles when Cas shoots him a glare. 

“You do not.”

“Can I at least draw something filthy on your cast?”

“I suppose,” Cas agrees, rolling his eyes. Sam starts laughing and Dean does an over-exaggerated fist pump in victory. 

“I’m gonna write an exorcism on it,” Sam says.

“That would look cool, but it might scare people,” Cas says. 

“It’ll make you look more badass is what it will do,” Sam says, patting Cas’ shoulder and squeezing gently. 

“You’re probably right,” Cas agrees. 

Once Cas gets settled into the Impala, this time with a few stacks of shirts piled behind his back and a makeshift pillow made out of one of Sam’s jackets, they start out on the trek home. Cas figures they won’t stop. He is prepared for a long eight hours of pain and discomfort. 

He is a little more than surprised when Sam asks, “Where are we stopping?”

“Figured somewhere along the border, it’s about halfway between Lebanon and here. We’ll make the rest of the trip tomorrow morning.”

“Sounds good, that okay Cas? Or is four hours too long?” Sam asks, leaning over his shoulder to peer at Cas. 

“No that’s... that’s fine, I didn’t expect you would stop,” Cas admits. 

Dean huffs and Cas watches him grip and release the steering wheel, “I wasn’t just gonna drive straight through, that’s too long.”

“Four hours is fine,” Cas says. “Thank you both.”

“Don’t mention it Cas, we’re just glad you’re okay,” Sam says, shooting Cas a soft smile over his shoulder. 

Cas watches Dean nod his agreement, and swallow thickly. “Try to get some rest,” Dean says. “I’ll put some soft rock on, that always knocks Sam out so maybe it’ll work with you too.”

“Thank you, Dean,” Cas says. Dean looks over his shoulder and gives Cas a brief smile before returning his eyes to the road. 

Cas expects now that he is doing better, Dean will go back to less physical body contact. He assumes originally it had been born out of worry and a necessity to make sure that Cas was okay. He is wrong. It takes Dean longer this time, but after they’ve been out on the main freeway for about a half hour and Dean’s gotten into an easy flow of driving, Cas feels Dean’s fingers bump against his again. 

Cas was on the verge of sleep, the pain medication finally kicking in, but he opens his palm, and twines his fingers around Dean’s. Dean doesn’t look at him, but squeezes back anyway. Cas evens his breathing, and wraps himself up in the feel of Dean’s touch, the smell of him drifting off his clothes, and finally lets sleep take him. 

* * *

Cas wakes to Dean’s hand tapping the side of his non-injured calf. 

“Hey buddy, we’re here,” Dean says, gently. “Sam’s gonna help you get out of the car, and then we’ll head inside. I’ve already got us checked in.”

“Are all the bags inside?” Cas asks, voice scratchy and deep in his throat from lack of use. 

“Mhmm, we just gotta get you in there,” Dean says, smiling. 

“Okay,” Cas says, blinking slowly and sitting forward when he hears Sam tap on the door behind him. 

He uses the crutches for the short distance between the Impala and the motel room door. It does cause his shoulder wound extra pain, but he grins and bears it. As much as he likes the help, he does want to be able to walk by himself. Dean opens the door for him, and Cas shuffles through it, plopping down on the bed closest to the door. He rests his crutches along the side of the bed and sits back on his hands, taking a few deep breaths. Cas hadn’t been all the way awake yet when he left the Impala, but he sure is now, the pain back in both his leg and his wound. 

Sam and Dean move about the room, adjusting everything, turning the heat on against the autumn chill. Sam moves Cas’ bag onto a chair closer to his bed, while Dean paces and makes sure the walkway to the bathroom is clear of anything on the floor. Cas watches them silently, but his heart grows at how lucky he is to have two people love him so much. Cas notices only his bag and Dean’s, where it’s resting on the bed opposite his, and turns to Sam.

“Where are you sleeping?” Cas asks. 

He doesn’t miss the way Dean temporarily falters as he sifts through the items in his own bag. 

“We were going to have to share, but I figured that obviously you needed all the space possible and that, uh, Dean would want to be nearby so I got a room next door,” Sam explains. 

“Oh, well, thank you Sam. I hope you sleep alright,” Cas says, smiling softly as Sam gives him two gentle pats on his shoulder. 

“Yeah, I’m sure I will. I won’t have to deal with Dean’s snoring,” Sam teases. 

Dean turns around, toothbrush in hand, and scowls at Sam, “I don’t snore.”

“You’ve snored since you were like fifteen, Dean.”

“It’s true, you do snore,” Cas agrees, tipping his lips up into an amused smile. 

Dean squints back and forth between the two of them and waggles his toothbrush at them, “Betrayed by my own family. I’m hurt.”

Cas laughs as Dean wanders into the bathroom and watches Sam roll his eyes. 

“I’m gonna head next door. Sleep well, Cas. Don’t forget to eat something before taking those pain pills, it will mess with your stomach otherwise. I went and got a few sandwiches for us next door while Dean was unloading the car,” Sam says. 

“Thank you, Sam. I feel very lucky to have you both.”

“We love you Cas, you’re our family. We are going to take good care of you,” Sam says, smiling. 

“I know and I appreciate it, very much.”

“Night, Cas, see ya tomorrow,” Sam says, turning towards the door. 

“Night, Sam,” Cas calls after him. 

He shivers after the door closes and the cool night air rushes into the room. He wants to sleep, but knows that he needs to eat and do all the proper human pre-bed rituals before he can. For the first time, getting ready for bed seems like an extremely difficult task. He really just wants to sit here. 

Dean comes out of the bathroom a few minutes later, clad in soft sweatpants and a grey t-shirt. He glances briefly over at Cas with a little smile and starts putting away his things.

“Dean,” Cas pipes up, once Dean starts wandering around the room again.. Dean looks up at him from where he’s rifling through the bag the sandwiches are. 

“What’s up?” Dean asks, pausing his movements. 

“I think... I am going to need some help, uh... changing and Sam said I needed to eat before I take the medication,” Cas says. 

“I know, I’m gonna help you, I just didn’t wanna rush you. Didn’t know if you were ready yet,” Dean replies. 

“Oh,” Cas says, blushing at himself. It’s partially because he didn’t understand the situation, but mostly because he’s thinking about Dean touching him. “I think I’m ready.”

“What do you wanna do first? Eat or change?” Dean asks, padding over to the bed so he’s standing next to Cas. 

“Eat I think, I feel a little dizzy,” Cas admits. Once he thinks about it, it has been a long time since he had a significant meal. 

“You got it. Sandwich time,” Dean says, grinning. He walks back over to the bag resting near the television and grabs a sandwich and a water bottle. 

“Here bud, I’ll get you your pain meds too.”

“Thank you, Dean,” Cas says. He opens the sandwich greedily and is a third of the way done by the time Dean comes back, pill bottle in hand. Dean dumps two into Cas’ awaiting palm and closes the bottle with a pop. He sits across from Cas on his own bed, hands resting on the tops of his thighs, and just watches. It’s strange, to be the one being watched. He wonders if this is how Dean used to feel when Cas would watch him. 

Cas finishes eating quickly, takes his pills, and rests the half-empty water bottle on the nightstand next to him. 

Dean brings him a pair of sweatpants, and a t-shirt, both from Dean’s bag, which confuses Cas at first, considering he has his own things. 

“I figured you might want to wear my pants instead, they’re older and looser so they’ll be easier to get on and off with your cast,” Dean explains. 

Cas nods, and turns a little on the bed so he’s better facing Dean. “Do you need me to stand up?”

“Yep, it’ll be easier that way. Put your hands on my shoulders,” Dean says. He comes in close, so close that Cas can smell the mint from the toothpaste on Dean’s breath. He leans down a little so Cas can reach better and places two hands, butterfly soft, on Cas’ sides. Cas stands easily, but grips Dean’s shoulders when he gets to full height, still unsteady and unused to standing on only one leg. 

“You good?” Dean asks, eyes searching Cas’, darting back and forth. 

“Yes, what do you need me to do to help?” 

“Uh...” Dean starts, and ducks his head, pink rising on his cheeks. “I guess get your pants down as far as you can and then I’ll help you pull them off the rest of the way.”

Cas nods and starts undo the button of his jeans. Dean darts his eyes away, looking at the comforter beside Cas instead of directly at Cas. The tips of his ears are pink but he doesn’t move away, even as Cas holds onto one of Dean’s shoulders as he tries to shimmy out of his jeans. He pushes them down to about mid-thigh and then stops, huffing in frustration. 

“I think that’s as far as I can go without falling over,” Cas says, chuckling nervously. He can feel the tension between them; it’s always been there, but it snaps now, more so than it has before. Due to proximity or situation, Cas isn’t sure, but it’s driving him crazy. 

Dean nods and gestures to the bed with one hand. “If you sit back down I can help you the rest of the way.”

Cas does, and holds his legs out the best he can so that the process goes easy for Dean. Dean kneels down in front of him on the ground, and with careful hands slowly starts to pull Cas’ jeans off. It doesn’t hurt when he gets to the cast, but it is tight, and Cas decides he’s not going to be wearing anything other than sweatpants or pajamas for the next six weeks because this is too difficult to have to do everyday. 

Dean helps him get the new pants on and has Cas stand up to pull them on the rest of the way. They’re loose on his hips, just like Dean said they would be, and hang low, resting barely above his hip bones. 

Dean stays while Cas pulls off the plaid, and carefully takes off his undershirt, going extra slow when he pulls it up around the stitches. The air is cool against his skin, despite the heater humming in the background. He feels bashful suddenly, half-naked under Dean’s eyes. Dean’s trying to not look at him, but Cas can’t help but notice the way Dean’s eyes dart down his chest, and he swallows thickly before quickly returning his eyes to Cas’. Cas hopes that means what he thinks it does. 

Cas tries to put on the shirt, but when he does so, the wound aches and he hisses out as it sends searing pain across his stitches. 

“Here, lemme help,” Dean says, gently taking the shirt out of Cas’ hands, and nudging him to raise his arms above his head. 

Cas complies, and closes his eyes as Dean slips the shirt over his arm and pulls it down. Dean’s fingers barely brush the edge of visible skin at Cas’ hips, but it causes him to shiver nonetheless. When he opens his eyes again, he finds Dean looking back at him. His hands are gone from Cas’ body, but he seems unwilling to move away. 

“Dean?” Cas says, voice barely above a whisper. 

At the mention of his name, Dean breaks out of whatever trance he’d been enraptured in and smiles, nervous, and shakes his head a little. 

“You probably wanna brush your teeth, huh?” Dean asks. 

“That would be nice, yes,” Cas answers. 

Dean gets his crutches for him, and Cas gives him a grateful smile. Dean lets him go to the bathroom by himself, but once inside, Cas can hear him puttering about the room. 

After changing and completing his nightly routine, Cas is exhausted. The pain pills are kicking in and he can feel them hitting him all at once. He feels almost intoxicated, dizzy, the pain subsiding and he feels good,  _ really  _ good for the first time since this whole thing happened. 

He is able to climb into bed himself, heaving his body up using his right leg and then sliding his injured one in, using his arms as stabilizers. The bed is comfortable, compared to most motels, but Cas isn’t sure he would care much with how exhausted he is. Anything would feel good at this point. He peers at Dean over the edge of the covers as Dean moves about the room, turning of the lights, salting the windows and doors, and making sure everything is locked up. 

Dean is a silhouette as he walks back to his bed. He climbs in on the side closest to Cas. When Cas looks over, Dean is facing him, his eyes sparkling in the light of the moon. 

“You comfy?” Dean asks.

“Yes, I am very sleepy,” Cas says, and his words must come out more slurred than he thinks they do because Dean chuckles. 

“Good, get some sleep Cas. You can sleep in as late as you need to, but we’ve still got a drive tomorrow.”

“You too, Dean,” Cas answers, already fading, eyes fluttering shut as he hangs on the precipice of sleep. 

“I’ll try. Night, Cas.” 

“Night, Dean.”

* * *

The next morning Sam comes over around nine, bearing breakfast sandwiches and coffee. The smell of the food alone wakes Cas from slumber, but he doesn’t climb out of bed for another hour, dozing in and out, the pills still working their magic from the night before. When he finally feels awake enough to get up and not fall over, he sits up and eats one of the sandwiches and two full cups of coffee. Dean offers to help him change back into non-sleep clothes but Cas refuses; he’s comfortable like this, and it’s easier with his legs. He does put on Dean’s plaid he was wearing yesterday, because it’s warm and comforting in ways that he tries not too hard to think about. 

Cas notices, as they pack up, that there’s a breakfast sandwich left over in the bag. All the hashbrowns are gone, and he remembers seeing Sam eat, but not Dean. 

“Dean, did you eat?” Cas asks. 

“I had some coffee, and a hashbrown or two,” Dean answers. He’s avoiding Cas’ gaze though, and Sam’s as well. Sam looks over at him, eyebrows furrowing together and he sighs heavily as he carries their bags out the door. 

“You should eat more than just that,” Cas says. Dean not eating, that’s... well, that’s just not Dean. 

“I’m fine, Cas, just not hungry is all. I’ll eat more once we get home,” Dean says, and smiles a little. “You ready to head outside?” He’s obviously changing the subject, but Cas will allow it.

“Yeah, I’ll follow you.”

The door slams shut behind him, and Cas pauses in the doorway, getting his bearings. He shuffles over to the car, and starts to get in himself. He gets as far as his butt on the seat before he feels a pain in his leg and freezes, a whimper leaving his mouth. Dean rushes over first, forehead crinkled in worry, and presses a soft hand on Cas’ knee. 

“You okay?”

“I thought I could do it myself, but it hurt so I probably shouldn’t.”

“You’ve always been stubborn,” Dean says. “I’ll come around and help you.”

True to his word, Dean sets Cas up comfortably, puts two plaid shirts behind him as cushions and even one underneath his leg to elevate it. He makes sure Cas is completely comfortable before sliding into the driver’s seat. Sam slides in next to him and shoots Cas a bright smile. 

“Ready to go home?”

“Very ready,” Cas answers, and the three of them laugh together. It’s been a long eighteen hours for everyone. 

Dean slides an AC/DC tape into the tape deck, and the engine comes to life with a roar. He finds Cas’ hand a few minutes later once they’re cruising on the interstate, and locks their fingers together. This has started to become a normal thing, and Cas honestly can say he hopes it stays. 

Cas sleeps for the entire ride back to the Bunker, only waking once when Dean hits some rough road forty miles outside of Lebanon. He falls back asleep almost instantaneously and doesn’t wake again until Dean pulls into the garage and the Impala’s engine echoes against the walls, amplifying the sound.

His leg is aching again, which means before he sleeps again he needs more pain pills. He will have to remind Dean once he’s inside and settled. Cas is already starting to feel burdensome; he knows he  _ shouldn’t,  _ but it’s difficult when he’s so used to being the one that Sam and Dean rely on, and now he has to completely rely on them. 

He doesn’t need to wonder why Sam wasn’t the one to share the room with him last night. He knows that he is closer to Dean and that if their interaction last night had been awkward, with Sam the awkwardness would have only been moreso. Sam helps him out of the car though, while Dean unloads their stuff and Cas’ crutches. Cas makes the trek to his room by himself, Sam and Dean leading the way, bags slung over their shoulders. Sam heads further down the hallway to his room and Dean’s room to drop off their bags, while Cas follows Dean to his own room. Dean places Cas’ bag on the chair next to his desk and hovers in the doorway while Cas sits down on the bed and finds a good place to put his crutches. 

“You need anything?” Dean asks. His hand are stuffed into the pockets of his jacket, and for the first time in the past eighteen hours Cas really looks at him. Dean looks small in the dim light of Cas’ room, and there are bags under his eyes, which means Dean slept very little, just as Cas suspected. He’s still worried; that much is evident just based on the tension written plainly on his face. 

“Just more pain pills, and I want you to go eat something and then nap,” Cas says. He tries to make his voice sound firm, but it comes out more tired. 

“You don’t need to worry about me,” Dean says, shaking his head. “You’re the one that’s hurt.”

“If you want to be able to help me, Dean, you need to take care of yourself too.”

Dean meets Cas’ eyes and nods slowly, “You’re right, I’ll... yeah, I’ll do that.”

“Good,” Cas says and offers Dean the largest smile he can manage over the pain. 

Dean comes back with the pills a few minutes later, and deposits them carefully into Cas’ open palm. 

“I’ll come back and check on you in a few hours,” Dean says. “Get some more sleep.” He places a warm palm on Cas’ good shoulder and squeezes. 

“You too, Dean,” Cas replies. He reaches up and presses his palm on the top of where Dean rests on his shoulder. 

Dean smiles, almost bashful, but doesn’t move until Cas does first. He does an adorable little wave as he closes the door behind him and Cas listens to his footsteps fade down the hallway. 

He’s asleep before the warmth of Dean’s hand on his shoulder fades. 


	3. Chapter 3

Dean heads back to his room, body practically aching with exhaustion. He kicks off his shoes, puts on one of his hoodies, and heads back down the hallway towards the kitchen. Sam is already there, sitting at the dining table sipping at a cup of coffee and reading a book on mutated vampire lore.

“You want anything to eat? I’m gonna make a sandwich I think,” Dean says. Now that he is home and Cas is safe and hopefully sleeping, the hunger he’d been putting aside for the past day comes on full force. His stomach gurgles in impatience, so he busies himself pulling out condiments, meat, and cheese while he waits for Sam’s answer.

“I might in a bit, but not right now. I’m glad you’re eating something,” Sam says, looking up briefly from his book to give Dean a knowing look.

“Thanks, Mom,” Dean replies, sarcastically.

“Hey, I get that you’re worried about him, but I don’t want to have to worry about Cas _and_ you,” Sam says.

“I’m fine,” Dean retorts, as he slathers mustard onto a piece of bread.

“Whatever you say, Dean, but please sleep,” Sam eyes Dean with a raised eyebrow and takes a slow sip of his coffee.

“Ya know, that’s what Cas said too,” Dean says.

“Well if you don’t listen to me, at least listen to him.”

Dean huffs and slaps a piece of cheese on top of the ham.

“Do we need anything at the store? I was thinking of making a run.” Sam asks.

“Probably just the usual stuff. Ingredients for burgers though especially, maybe some more raspberry jelly, chocolate ice cream, some more creamer, and anything else you want I guess.” Dean takes a big bite out of his sandwich and sighs in satisfaction.

“Gotcha, I’ll stock up, then maybe we can just stay here and relax for a while,” Sam says. He downs the rest of his coffee in one go and smiles.

“Yeah, that would be nice. I could use a break,” Dean admits. He thinks of his bed waiting for him down the hallway, and immediately feels a wall of exhaustion hit him.

“Be safe out there, I’m gonna head to bed for a bit,” Dean says, waving his mostly eaten sandwich in Sam’s direction, who rolls his eyes at him. He’s smiling though, and Dean knows that Sam is worried about him too, as much as he is worried about Cas.

That’s the thing though, it’s hard for Dean to take care of himself when he’s so worried about someone else. He’s always been that way and it’s... well, it’s a work in progress. Dean himself is a work in progress, considering he only managed to admit to himself that his feelings for Cas were more than just platonic about a year ago. He’d been close, so many times, to telling Cas how he felt. There had been moments when they were on a hunt, or awake in the early morning together talking over a cup of coffee, where he had wanted to tell him. It hadn’t felt right, not then. He wasn’t sure when the right time was, if there ever would be a right time, but he knew that eventually he’d break.

Dean isn’t scared of love. He’d loved Lisa, still does. His love for others never goes away, just changes into something more manageable. With Cas, Dean isn’t sure what he feels could ever be described as manageable or rather anything less than cosmic, as cheesy as that sounds. He doesn’t truly have the words for how he feels, the intensity is entirely new to him. Whenever he is around Cas, he doesn’t have the classical feeling of butterflies, he’s completely overwhelmed. A rushing ache that starts deep within his chest, spreads throughout his entire body and returns back to his chest, comforting and warm. It makes him want more with Cas than he knows he deserves, and more than he’s probably ever going to get.

Dean stuffs the rest of his sandwich into his mouth, halfway down the hallway to his room now. He told himself he wouldn’t, but he pauses in front of Cas’ room anyway, pressing his ear against the door. Faintly, through the thick wood, he hears Cas’ snores. Dean wants to go in, wants to curl himself around Cas, wrap him up and hope that would somehow take away all the pain and be the comfort he needs. Dean knows he can’t just _do_ that. Instead, he places  a wide palm against the flat of the door, lingering for a few seconds before he continues to his room.

Once inside his room, Dean doesn’t go to sleep right away. He’s still restless, moving about his room, unpacking his bag and plugging in his phone to charge, even as exhaustion threatens to close his eyes for him. There’s an uneasy ache in his chest. Dean sits down on his bed, presses his feet solidly against the ground and hangs his head between two open palms. Breathe in, breathe out.

_If you want to be able to help me, Dean, you need to take care of yourself too._

Dean knows that Cas _is_ right. He will be useless to take care of Cas if he is incapacitated due to exhaustion, though the self-hate he’d feel as a result would feel worse than the fatigue. He can’t even begin to imagine how he’d be feeling if Cas had been injured more than a broken leg and forty stitches in his chest.

A heavy breath escapes his lungs, and Dean sits back up. He slips under his comforter and sighs in satisfaction when his mattress immediately forms to the shape of his back. Memory foam, best damn invention ever. Dean’s muscles instantly start to relax the moment his body sinks into the mattress. All of his exhaustion sinks with him and his eyelashes start fluttering shut. There’s still a bubble of anxiety pooling in his stomach with worries about Cas, but within a few minutes it’s quelled enough that sleep comes easy.

* * *

Dim light filters in through the trees, casting long shadows across the forest floor. Dean runs towards Cas’ strangled voice, adrenaline pumping through him. He trips over a root and face plants, rough dirt coating his cheeks and scraping his nose. He scrambles back up and sprints to where he can hear the faint sound of Cas’ labored breathing. Cas’ feet stick out from the other side of a large tree, the toe of his boots covered in mud, and Dean collapses at his side, hands ghosting over his body as he checks for wounds. Dean gasps in horror as he sees the gaping wound coming out of Cas’ chest, blood pooling in the center of him. He rips off his plaid and presses it tight against Cas’ wound. It’s too late, he knows it, and he fights back the tears blooming in the corners of his eyes as he meets Cas’ gaze.

“It’s okay, buddy. You’re gonna be okay, I’m going to get you out of here.”

Cas shakes his head slowly, already fading, and Dean can see the paleness in his cheeks highlighted by the moonlight filtering through the trees.

“Dean, no, just... stay with me,” Cas says, his voice faint. Dean leans in closer, takes Cas’ dirt-covered fingers between his own and clasps their hands together.

“Okay,” Dean say, squeezing Cas’ hand tight within his own, “Okay.”

Dean kneels down, keeps his eyes on Cas’, and continues pressing down on Cas’ chest to staunch the flow the best he can. Cas clings tight to Dean’s hand, the lifeline between them, and smiles shakily up at Dean.

The front of his shirt is soaked through, the brown and white pattern splotched red. Dean finds that he doesn’t have the words he needs to say, so he holds on tight to Cas’ hand and smiles back.

Cas’ eyelashes flutter as he fades, and Dean feels the moment he goes, all the tension leaving his body, hand going slack where it’s wrapped tight in Dean’s.

Dean hears screaming, echoing in the forest around him, wrought with anguish. The last thing he feels before everything goes dark is the warm, wet splatters of raindrops against his cheeks.

* * *

“Dean?!” Sam’s voice jolts Dean awake in bed, and Dean sits up, heartbeat thudding erratically in his chest.

“Yeah?” Dean asks. His voice comes out scratchy and he coughs a few times. His throat aches.

“You were screaming. Nightmare?”

That explains it.

“Yeah, a nightmare,” Dean says, relaxing a little bit as he comes back to himself and the current world. He scrubs a hand through his hair and tries to take a few deep breaths to calm his still-racing heart.

“Anything specific?” Sam asks, hovering near the edge of Dean’s bed. He looks a little lost, and there’s the familiar worry crinkles that Dean has seen etched on his forehead near constantly over past two days.

“I don’t really wanna talk about it,” Dean mutters, avoiding Sam’s gaze. Sam would know; Sam always knows.

“Okay, that’s fine. I just heard you yelling so I wanted to make sure you were alright.”

“I’m okay, just a dream. I think I’m gonna get up for a while though, maybe sleep a little later once the memories fade.”

Sam nods in understanding. Dean knows his brother has had his fair share of terrors that haunt him on a near daily basis. It’s never easy to go back to sleep from a normal nightmare, but the kind of shit they deal with? It takes more than a few hours.

“I’ll be down in the library if you need me,” Sam says.

“I’m probably gonna cook something for dinner in a bit, I’ll come get you then,” Dean says.

He yawns and offers up a lazy wave when Sam leaves. His muscles are rejuvenated enough that being awake is no longer a chore, but he definitely needs more sleep. Dean flips his legs out of bed and hisses at the contact of the cool floor. He slips on his Scooby slippers and his bathrobe and pads down the hallway to Cas’ room.

Dean raps on the door twice, rocks back and forth from his heels to his toes and waits. There’s a faint, “Come in,” and Dean pushes the door open, smiling softly when he sees Cas sitting up in bed, a book spread out in his lap.

“Hey,” Dean says, “How are you feeling?”

Cas smiles, looks down at the slippers on Dean’s feet, and his smile softens.. “Better, I slept a bit. My leg isn’t hurting right now, the medication is still working.”

“Good, how’s your chest feeling?” Dean asks. He comes and sits on the edge of the bed, right near Cas’ knee.

“Fine, I feel tugs on the stitches when I move but the pain has lessened. I am starting to get back to myself, but everything is disorientated,” Cas says. He brushes a hand down the front of his shirt, over his wound, and moves his hand so it’s resting on the comforter near the edge of Dean’s thigh.

“You’re doing good for only a day, you’re so strong,” Dean says. He bumps the side of his hand against Cas’ where it’s close by and watches while Cas’ face lights up and his eyes crinkle at Dean’s compliment.

“I thought you would be sleeping for longer,” Cas says.

Dean shrugs. “I had a nightmare, so no more sleeping for me for a bit.”

“Oh Dean, I’m sorry. What was your dream?”

Dean knows he probably shouldn’t tell Cas. He hates talking about his nightmares anyway, but recently he’s been okay with being vulnerable around Cas. He isn’t sure why, exactly; maybe the final admittance of how he feels about Cas was what pushed it along, but he also knows that Cas will know Dean is lying if he makes up something innocuous.

“Uh... I had a dream you died. We were back in the forest, and the wound on your chest,” Dean explains, gesturing at it, “It wasn’t so superficial as this one is and... yeah.”

“Dean,” Cas says, soft. He always says Dean’s name so gently, like it’s made of glass, like it’s precious. Like he’s something to be valued.

“What?”

“I’m right here, I’m okay,” Cas says. He closes the few inches between their hands and covers the top of Dean’s hand with his.

“I know, you just need to convince my brain of that,” Dean says with a chuckle.

Cas gently squeezes Dean’s hand, “Does this help?”

“A little, yeah.” Dean smiles, bashful.

They’ve never touched this much. Only hugged when death was imminent and gave shoulder touches in the midst of battle or as a warning, sometimes occasional comfort, but not like this. Dean should be terrified, should want to run away every moment Cas decides to do something that borders on more than friendship, but he doesn’t run, he just basks in it.

“Do you want something for dinner?” Dean asks. He changes the subject, but doesn’t break the physical contact. He tries to ignore the slow circles Cas is rubbing onto the top of his hand.

“Whatever you want is fine. Something warm?”

“I was thinking of throwing together some chili,” Dean says. He’s excruciatingly aware of every gloss over his hand that Cas makes with his thumb, infuriating and perfect all at the same time.

“That sounds wonderful,” Cas says. He pauses his ministrations across Dean’s skin, slips his fingers between Dean’s and squeezes.

Dean suddenly finds it hard to breathe, but manages to say, “How is your leg feeling?”

“It’s itching, is it supposed to do that?” Cas asks. He tilts his leg back and forth under the covers and scowls.

Dean laughs. “Yeah, I don't know why, but everytime Sam or I have had a broken bone it always itches something awful. You can itch it with a ruler, I’m sure there’s one around, I’ll find it for you. Just be gentle when you do or you’ll fuck up the healing progress.”

“I would appreciate that,” Cas says.

Dean finds he doesn’t know what else to say, but he doesn’t want to move. So he stays where he is, sitting with Cas’ warm hand covering his own, their thighs touching, and their quiet companionship.

He looks over when Cas suddenly intakes a gasp of air and rushes it out in a snore. Cas’ face is now peaceful in sleep, and Dean feels a rush of warmth through him at how Cas’ hand is still wrapped around his. Dean doesn’t want to move, but he promised Cas dinner, and he doesn’t back down on his promises. Regretfully, he gives Cas’ fingers a gentle squeeze and ever-so-carefully slips his hand out from underneath Cas’. Cas releases a heavy sigh and curls towards Dean, trying to find contact even in sleep.

He’s adorable.

Dean is fucked.

Dean doesn’t want to, but he gets up from the bed, trying to make his movements as careful as possible, so as not to wake Cas. He is successful, as Cas only slumps over to the side a little, mouth hanging open in a way that would be unattractive on literally anyone else but looks cute on him.

Dean exits the room quickly, closing the door with a quiet thump and pads down the hallway to the kitchen.

The warmth from Cas’ hand lingers long after Dean’s started heating up the stove to cook. He lets himself focus on it, and doesn’t try to run from the myriad emotions that the touch provided. Instead, he allows himself a brief moment of respite to think over everything that’s been happening in the past 24 hours. It’s easy to zone out and think while he chops up onions, celery, peppers, and tomatoes for the chili. He throws in some ground beef too, and lets it sit, simmering while he pops open a beer and leans back against the counter.

Dean takes in a deep breath and releases it slowly, letting out all of the tension that has been coiled up tight in his shoulders over the past few days.

_Cas is okay, Cas is going to be okay._

It’s been made entirely clear to him over the past day that Cas’ presence in his life isn’t only something he wants, but a necessity. He struggled living without him after Cas died by Lucifer’s blade, but they’ve grown closer since and Dean knows now he couldn’t do it.

He used to think there was no one but Sam that he’d be willing to sacrifice everything for, and then Cas showed up.

Dean wants to tell Cas how he feels, but it’s something too massive to just _say_ , and some grand gesture isn’t him and isn’t what Cas would want either. He’s thought about telling him that day Cas told Dean he’d lost his grace because of him, he thought about telling him twenty minutes ago, and he thought about it every minute in between, but he’s gotta get it right. Especially because it’s Cas, and he’s never felt like this about anyone.

Despite evidence, especially recent evidence, proving that Cas at least feels _something_ for him, Dean doesn’t want to be wrong. And if he’s being completely honest with himself, he’s fucking scared. It’s all too much.

Being with Cas would be overwhelming in the best way possible.

He’s halfway through his beer when Sam walks into the kitchen.

“Whatcha making?” Sam asks, bee-lining over to the steaming pot and leaning down to sniff at it.

“Chili, but it’s not ready yet,” Dean says swatting at Sam’s shoulder.

Sam backs up, grinning, and reaches into the fridge to grab himself a beer. He leans his hip against the counter while Dean stirs the chili.

“That’s a new apron,” Sam says, pointing at Dean’s chest, mouth twitching in amusement.

Dean has a collection of aprons growing in the closet near the kitchen. He has about six now, and it’s become a sort of thing now with his friends getting him the most ridiculous or ugly ones they can find. He wears them all with pride.

This one is quite literally, cute. It has “cutie” written in red cursive slightly slanted on the front and a steaming pie with hearts coming out of it beneath the lettering.

“Rowena left it the last time she was here and said it seemed fitting for me,” Dean explains, remembering how she’d mostly meant it as a joke but there had been a knowing look on her face.

Dean honestly loves it.

Sam laughs, and rolls his eyes. “She would. For Christmas you’re going to end up getting ten aprons.”

“I’m good with that,” Dean says, grinning.

“Weirdo.”

“Shut up,” Dean says, shaking the wooden spoon in his hand at Sam. “Will you go get Cas and tell him dinner’s ready?”

“Yeah, be right back.”

Dean takes the time Sam is gone to find a ladle and start scooping up chili into bowls. He bought new dishes recently; the original ones were fine, but had an ugly floral pattern that swooped across the center. Dean went out and bought a set of plain white plates and bowls. They looked simpler and better when cooking, and were more economical at the rate dishes get dropped or broken in the bunker.

He sets up the bowls at the small table in the kitchen along with three bottles of beer. Dean thinks about taking off his apron, but he _really_ likes this one, so he keeps it on and waits for Sam and Cas.

A minutes or two later he hears shuffling down the hallway and Sam and Cas’ voices. Cas slowly makes his way to the kitchen on his crutches, with Sam close behind him just in case anything happens. Cas’ hair is messed up, a bunch of strands sticking out at the top from being pressed against his pillow. He is still wearing one of Dean’s shirts, and looks exhausted, but he’s smiling and that’s all Dean cares about.

“Hey buddy, looking good,” Dean says, when Cas enters the kitchen.

Cas looks up from the floor and gives Dean a shaky smile. “I’m slowly getting used to these. It’s unfortunate humanity hasn’t created a better alternative yet.”

Sam chuckles and Dean’s smile expands. “I’m sure they will one day. We’ll probably have a hovercraft to take people places in the next twenty years.”

Cas comes closer, a little shaky from exertion and probably pain.

“Wanna sit on the end? I figured it would be easier with your leg,” Dean says.

“Yes I think that will work fine,” Cas says. Dean pulls out the chair for him, and gently takes his elbow as Cas removes his crutches and hands them to Sam. Dean doesn’t let go of him until Cas seems comfortable.

“Thank you,” Cas says. “This smells amazing.”

Dean blushes, as he always does when Cas gives him any sort of compliment, and shrugs. “It’s not anything special, but we could all use something warm and comforting, right?”

“Warm and comforting is exactly what I need,” Cas agrees, and looks up at Sam, who nods.

Dean sits across from Cas, and notices now that Cas isn’t focused on the chili he just tasted. Instead, he’s looking at Dean with a quirk of amusement on his face.

“What? Does it taste bad?” Dean asks, mostly teasing.

“No, it’s lovely. Who gave you the new apron?” Cas asks, gesturing at Dean with his spoon.

“Oh. Rowena a couple of weeks ago, I just haven't really had a chance to use it. She said it fit me.”

Cas laughs, stares at Dean a little longer, and says, “She was right, it does.”

Sam rolls his eyes and Dean has the urge to kick him in the shin, but decides against it and smiles down into his bowl of chili instead.  

They all eat in relative silence, still hungry and tired from the whole ordeal. Sam finishes first and takes his dishes to the sink. When he comes back to the table, he grabs another beer and puts a hand on Cas’ shoulder.

“I’m gonna go back to the library and research a few things. Jody is having trouble with a case in Wyoming, so she asked me to check some stuff out for her. I’m glad you’re feeling better, Cas,” Sam says. He squeezes Cas’ shoulder and smiles when Cas meets his eyes and smiles back.

“Thank you, Sam. I appreciate your help.”

“Anytime.”

Dean takes his and Cas’ bowls to the sink, washes them quickly, and settles back into his chair across from Cas.

“You need anything else?”

Cas scrunches his eyebrows together, deep in thought, and then his face softens.

“I was wondering if maybe you’d like to watch a movie with me?” Cas asks.

“Yeah? Which one?”

“Well, you did tell me once that there were many movies I _needed_ to see, and that you had a list, so something off of your list,” Cas answers, his face bright with curiosity.

“Oh, yeah we can do that, but if there’s another movie you wanna watch that’s fine. It doesn’t have to be one that I wanna show you.”

“I know, but... I like learning more about you, and seeing the things you enjoy,” Cas answers.  Dean finds he honestly doesn’t know what to say to that, so he nods instead and gives Cas a little smile.

“Popcorn and beer? Your room?” Dean asks. He would suggest going to the movie room, but that’s a long trek and it would be smarter for Cas to sit where he is comfortable just in case he gets too tired.

“Yes, and more pain medication,” Cas replies.

“You got it, I’ll pick the movie. I’ve got them all stashed in my room, so once we get you all settled back in bed, I’ll go get it.”

“I’m excited.”

“I can tell,” Dean says, chuckling. “Let’s get you up.”

Cas stands by himself and waits patiently while Dean grabs his crutches from where Sam left them behind the kitchen door. He stands close while Cas situates himself. Even though Cas is fully capable of handling everything on his own, Dean can’t help but be there just in case Cas needs him.

“I’ll head down and you can get all the stuff and meet me there,” Cas says. He moves towards the doorway, slowly making his way along, and pauses when he gets there, resting on his crutches.

“Are you sure? I can walk with you if you want,” Dean offers. He’s still at Cas’ side, and he knows he’s hovering, but Cas doesn’t seem to mind.

“Dean,” Cas says, and when Dean meets his eyes there’s a soft touch of endearment there that has his heart stuttering in his chest. “I appreciate the offer, but I’ll be okay. Go ahead and get everything ready.”

“Okay.” Dean watches Cas go, and doesn’t tear his eyes away until Cas has rounded the corner and even then makes sure he can still hear the sound of Cas’ crutches against the floor while he waits for the popcorn to finish popping.

Once it’s done, he heads down to Cas’ room, juggling a bowl of popcorn and two beers in his hands. He doesn’t bother knocking this time, just kicks open the door with his leg and grins.

“I come bearing snacks,” Dean says, his smile expanding when Cas starts laughing.

He is in his bed already, crutches laid out along the side of it, and he looks really comfy in one of Dean’s soft dark-blue hoodies, two blankets pulled up around his hips. Dean honestly can’t wait to get in there with him.

He hands Cas the popcorn and a beer, and climbs in on the other side. Thanks to the heat from Cas’ body, the bed is warm. Dean scoots as close as he dares - so their thighs are brushing - and leans back against the pillows Cas propped up along the headboard. He grabs Cas’ laptop and loads the movie up onto the screen, turning the volume up all the way, and hits play.

Dean reaches over and gently takes the popcorn bowl from Cas, placing it on top of their adjacent knees, and digs in. He stuffs a handful of popcorn in his mouth right as the first scene starts.

“You’re gonna love this, it’s a classic,” Dean mumbles around the food in his mouth.

Cas gives him a soft smile, mouth twitching with amusement as he eyes Dean’s mouth stuffed full of popcorn.

Dean watches Cas watch the movie more than he actually watches the movie. He’s seen this probably a hundred times, knows essentially all of the dialogue, he could quote it by heart. He focuses in when Wesley and Buttercup appear on the screen for the first time, a romantic symphony playing in the background.

“This is true love. You think this happens everyday?” Wesley says, and Dean watches as Cas smiles in Dean’s favorite way, all softness and eye crinkles. Dean swears his heart actually flips in his chest.

The movie continues and Cas seems to be enjoying it so far, eyes completely transfixed on the screen in front of him. Somehow, they’ve drifted closer, shoulders pressed firmly against one another, and Cas has started to lean on him. His head is drifting lower, nearing Dean’s shoulder, and Dean holds his breath so long waiting for Cas to lay his head down he ends up sighing. Cas looks over at him with a confused expression. Dean just shrugs it off and asks, “Who is your favorite so far?”

They’ve just reached the part where Inigo and Wesley (in disguise) have their little sword fight.

“I like Inigo, he’s interesting. I like Buttercup too, she’s very resilient and I admire that. It’s been fun so far,” Cas replies. He actually is paying attention and making note of details, which isn’t surprising, considering it’s Cas, but his earlier comment about wanting to get to know Dean more is still pinging around in Dean’s brain.

What does that even mean exactly? It could mean anything. It could mean just as friends or it could mean something else. The possibilities have Dean reeling, and he has to pull himself back into the moment before he starts spiraling.

Just as Buttercup and Wesley are reuniting and heading into the fire swamp, Dean feels Cas shift next to him and the side of his hand bumps Dean’s. It’s accidental, or so he thinks, until Cas’ pinky slides underneath his, curling to wrap around.

Dean turns to look at him, and finds Cas still watching the movie, but there’s a quirk of a smile on his lips that causes Dean’s heartbeat to tick up a few beats.

A few beats later and Cas is lifting up Dean’s hand with his own, sliding underneath to place their palms together and interlock their fingers.

This isn’t normal. Dean _knows_ this isn’t something you’re supposed to do with your friends, but maybe somewhere along the line Cas missed that and assumed that hand-holding was a thing you could do with everyone.

Dean takes a deep breath and squeezes Cas hand to let him know that it’s okay at least, that he doesn’t mind this. It’s nice actually, the feeling of their joined hands resting atop his thigh, even though it’s also making him feel like a giddy teenager.

The popcorn gets pushed aside, mostly empty except for a few stray kernels. Both of their beers are gone, empty bottles sitting on the nightstands. Dean feels nothing from one beer, but it’s made him warmer and a little looser, vulnerable.

“You’re a romantic,” Cas says suddenly, near the end of the movie, as Buttercup and Wesley are fighting their way back to each other in the confines of the castle.

“Sometimes,” Dean replies with a laugh.

“Can I ask you something?” Cas asks, and Dean reaches forward to pause the movie, because this sounds serious.

A nervous butterfly flits around in his stomach as he answers, “Yeah, Cas, of course.”

“Why did you never leave hunting when Sam did? You could have easily back then, you were still a kid. I know you did, later on, but you came back.”

“I think it’s too much a part of me, you know? It’s all I’ve ever done since I was a kid, and as much as I still long for, you know, normal shit, I think at this point what I have right now is the closest to normal I’ll ever get, and I’m okay with that.”

“Do you,” Cas starts then pauses, voice faltering, “do you ever think about finding someone in the hunting life to be with?”

Dean looks over at him, only briefly, because he doesn’t trust the emotions that flash over his own face at Cas’ question.

“Yeah, all the time. I’m getting too old for one night stands anyway,” Dean says, trying to lighten up the mood, because that’s what he does when things get too uncomfortable. Or in this case, too close.

“Do you?” Dean asks.

He curses his own mouth for asking one of the millions of thoughts rushing around in his head.

“Yes, I didn’t fall for no reason,” Cas says.

_He fell for you. He fell because of you._

Cas doesn’t mean him, he can’t. If he does, that means Dean is about to have something really good in his life and good things never stay long. Cas doesn’t deserve to partake any more in the curse that is Dean’s life more than he has to.

Dean swallows thickly, nods, and leans forward to press play on the movie. He doesn’t know what to say to that, and from the look on Cas’ face, he doesn’t expect Dean to say anything either.

There’s only about ten minutes left in the movie, and Den tries to concentrate, but ends up going through all the possibilities of Cas’ words in his head. It’s infuriating, and he’s so focused on toning down his thoughts that when Cas’ head falls to rest on the curve of Dean’s shoulder, Dean almost jolts in surprise. He catches himself soon enough, and barely breathes, but squeezes Cas’ hand in his all the same, letting him know it’s okay.

Cas’ palm is sweaty now; they have been holding hands nonstop for over an hour, so it’s getting a little uncomfortable, but Dean sure as hell isn’t letting go of him.

It’s the final scene, the sweeping dramatic ending where Wesley and Buttercup ride off into the sunset together and have the most passionate and romantic kiss the world has ever known. Dean hears Cas sigh softly as the credits start rolling. He still has his head on Dean’s shoulder, breath poofing out warm. If Dean had the guts, he’d kiss Cas right now and put Buttercup and Wesley to shame. He doesn’t have the guts, though, so he just rubs circles into Cas’ hand instead.

“What did you think?” he asks.

“It was cute. I can see why you consider it a classic. The romance… certainly seemed epic. It was very entertaining. I liked it,” Cas answers.

“Awesome. I know it’s sorta cheesy, but that’s the ‘80’s for you,” Dean says.

“I like cheesy, and I can see why it’s one of your favorites,” Cas adds.

“Oh? And why is that?”

“It’s a classic hero story, well, mostly. The good guys save the damsel in distress, win, and then get the girl, that’s always the goal isn’t it?”

“Well yeah, I mean, there isn’t always a girl,” Dean retorts. He isn’t quite sure where Cas is going with this.

“You saved me,” Cas says, and Dean doesn’t think he’s ever blushed so fast in his life.

“I... yeah, I guess I did,” Dean says, hoping his voice sounds more solid than it did to his own ears, because if not... whoo boy, is he in trouble.

“Hmm,” Cas hums, and that’s all he says, but Dean’s not dumb and definitely notices how Cas basically nuzzles against his shoulder.

He’s losing his mind. He’s dreaming and he’s losing his mind, because this couldn’t possibly be happening to him right now.

Dean’s not about to move, so he lets the credits roll until the screen goes blank and then suddenly becomes hyper aware of everywhere he and Cas are touching. This feels so intimate, so _date-like_. Dean continues gliding his thumb over the top of Cas’ fingers, because it’s grounding him in this when he’s barely stopping himself from spiraling.

He’s about to tell him the truth, when Cas huffs a heavy breath against the side of Dean’s neck.

“Cas?”

Cas doesn’t respond, only mumbles nonsense words, and curls in closer to Dean, rubbing his nose on the skin at the base of Dean’s neck.

Dean really isn’t going to get to move now, and you know what? That is more than okay.

He settles back against the pillows behind him, rests his head on the edge of one and the headboard, and gets comfy. He tilts his head, resting it on the side of Cas’, and closes his eyes.

Maybe he will get some much needed sleep too.

* * *

Dean wakes to the sound of three quiet knocks against Cas’ bedroom door. He stirs first, but Cas follows soon after, mumbling a bleary, “Sam?”

“Yep, it’s me. I just figured I’d say goodbye before I head out,” Sam says.

“Oh, come in,” Cas replies. He sits up a little in bed, moving his head off of Dean’s shoulder. It’s about that time Dean remembers they are holding hands. He thinks, briefly, about pulling back and breaking contact, knowing that Sam will tease him until the end of eternity for it. Cas’ hand feels too good in his, and despite the threat of teasing, Dean doesn’t have it in him to care as much as he once did.

Sam peeks his head around the door frame, and grins, waggling a sharpie in the air.

“Can I sign your cast?”

“Right, yes! I forgot about that!” Cas says. Dean sneaks a glance over at him and finds him beaming. Cas throws back the covers that are hiding his cast, and pats the bed beside his foot.

“Are you still going to give me an exorcism?” Cas asks.

Sam chuckles, but nods very seriously. “We wouldn’t want a demon possessing your cast, that would be terrible.”

“Very, it’s better to be safe,” Cas agrees, nodding.

Sam laughs and sits down on the corner of the bed and gets to work, slowly scribbling out the lines of the exorcism into the green skin of Cas’ cast.

“Can I too?” Dean asks.

“Of course.”

Dean watches Sam as he etches the words down in intense concentration and signs it with a flourish of his name. He signs near Cas’ ankle too, a short, _Get better soon :)_.

“All done!” Sam says, leaning back to examine his work. He hands the sharpie to Dean.

“I should be back either tomorrow or the next day. Seems like it’s going to be a quick hunt. I’ll let you know if things change though.”

“Be safe,” Dean says.

“I will. Make sure you remind him to eat,” Sam says, pointedly at Cas, purposefully ignoring Dean’s annoyed huff.

“Don’t worry, I will, ” Cas replies, and squeezes Dean’s fingers where their hands are still joined.

Sam leaves with a quick wave and a “See you later!”

Dean moves, regretfully releasing Cas’ hand from his, and moves down to the end of the bed so he can reach the cast. He contemplates what he wants to say, but draws an obscene picture first. He did tell Cas he would. Dean smirks to himself, and starts outlining the shape of a dick right on the bottom of Cas’ foot. He gives it wings just because he can, and bites his lip to hold back the laughter bubbling up in his chest.

“You’re drawing a dick, aren’t you,” Cas deadpans.

Dean looks up at him and smirks. “Told you I would.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Cas says, and then he’s giggling, quite adorably, and Dean forgets what he was doing for a moment.

“Don’t worry, I’ll put something nice too,” Dean assures him. He pats the bottom of Cas’ foot when he’s done and moves so he can reach the side of the cast. He signs it twice because he can and he knows Cas won’t mind.

_I took down three werewolves and all I got was this lousy cast._

_Feel better soon, buddy. - Dean <3 _

He hears Cas chuckle as he’s finishing up. He caps the pen with a click and looks up.

“Thank you, Dean.”

“Don’t mention it. You wanna sleep for a little longer?”

“I probably should, you should too,” Cas adds, already starting up on his promise to Sam to take good care of Dean while he’s gone.

“Yeah, yeah. I will,” Dean replies.

He wants to stay, wants that more than anything. But his body needs sleep too, just as Cas’ does, _real_ sleep.

“I’ll come check on you in awhile?” Dean asks. He smiles when Cas nods.

“Okay good, awesome. Sleep well,” Dean says.

“I’ll try,” Cas replies.

His eyes are droopy, and there’s a dopey sort of smile on his face that is completely focused on Dean. A blush creeps up on Dean’s cheeks, and he backs his way out of Cas’ room before he does something stupid like ram into his dresser or decide to stay.


	4. Chapter 4

Cas sleeps for a few more hours after Dean leaves. The absence of him leaves a lingering empty cold in the room, enough that Cas has to curl underneath the covers to fight back the loss. When he wakes, he isn’t groggy for once and decides to catch up on the most recent season of  _ Orange is the New Black _ . Cas is midway through an episode when there’s a quick rhythmic knock on his door. It’s Dean, because only Dean knocks like that. 

“Come in,” Cas calls. He pauses the show, and leans back against the pillow his back is propped up on. 

Dean grins when he opens the door, pushing it open with his hip since his hands are full. He is juggling a packet of gauze, medical tape, topical antibiotics the doctor prescribed, and a few paper towels. 

“Doctor’s here,” Dean says, waving the supplies in his hands with an exaggerated smile. 

Cas laughs and says, “Actually, I think this task is usually assigned to nurses.” He moves over a little in bed to give Dean room to set everything down. 

Dean pauses two feet from Cas’ bed and frowns, which morphs into a sort of confused smirk, “You know what, you’re right, I like that better, nurses are hot.”

Cas quirks an eyebrow at him and smiles, “They are.”

Dean snickers and sits on the edge of Cas’ bed, dumping most of his supplies right into Cas’ lap, and starts to arrange things on the comforter in a way that will be easiest to grab. Dean scoots closer to Cas until his hip is pressed against Cas’ thigh. 

“Did you remember we were doing this today? You’re wearing a good shirt for it,” Dean remarks, gesturing at the button up plaid Cas is wearing. 

“I might have, but mostly this shirt is comfortable,” Cas says, not adding that it’s Dean’s shirt. 

“Hmm,” is all Dean responds with, but there’s one of those soft secret smiles on his mouth as he busies himself opening up the packet of antibiotics so Cas knows that the fact that it’s  _ his _ shirt isn’t going unnoticed. 

“Do we really need to change the bandage so often?” Cas asks, once Dean has everything open and ready.

“It’s a pretty big wound, Cas. They said we need to change the dressing once every two days for the first week at least.”

“Yes, I know, but it just seems like such a chore and I’m sorry you have to do it,” Cas mutters. 

“Hey,” Dean says, placing a hand on Cas’ arm. “You know I don’t mind.”

“I know, but I mind,” Cas says, darting his eyes away from Dean’s gaze and fidgeting with one of the buttons on his shirt.

“Listen, don’t do that. I know that’s hypocritical coming from me, but the amount of times you’ve helped me when I’ve been hurt? Cas, c’mon. And I’m not doing this for that reason either, I’m doing it because I care so, shut up.”

Cas looks up at him and smiles, small and soft. “Okay, I’ll stop.”

“You better,” Dean says, pointing a finger at him. 

Cas watches as Dean double-checks everything and then looks back up at him. 

“So do you wanna just, uh...” He gestures at Cas’ shirt.

Cas doesn’t answer, just starts to unbutton his (well, Dean’s) shirt. He does it slowly, not on purpose, but so that the fabric won’t cling to the gauze and sting him. But he still feels like it makes the moment all the more charged. 

He pulls open the shirt on the side of the wound, but that feels weird and and uneven, so he flips the other half open as well. The air feels slightly cool on his skin. He looks back up at Dean and notices that Dean is pointedly not looking at him. 

“I’m ready,” Cas says, making his voice quiet because it feels right and he isn’t sure that he could muster up saying anything more. 

Dean is nervous, that much is obvious. Cas could assume the reason why, but refuses to, for fear he’s only putting his heart into harm’s way. Dean finally looks up, and Cas notices a perceptible widening of his eyes, and the quick easy glance he gives Cas’ bare chest before he clears his throat and idly messes around with the supplies. 

“I’m, uh, gonna take off the bandage, make sure the stitches look okay, then put some cream and a new bandage on the wound, and then you’ll be good as new,” Dean explains.

“Okay,” Cas says with a nod. 

“Right, so, uh...” Dean leans forward just a tad, enough into Cas’ space that he can feel the warmth radiating off of him. Dean’s hands hover barely an inch above the bandage, above the edge of the tape where it meets Cas’ skin. 

“Can I?” Dean asks in a whisper. 

“Yes.”

The pads of Dean’s fingers slide across Cas’ skin, against the line of tape. He’s trying to find a spot where it’s already starting to come up, that Cas’ can tell, but it feels like Dean’s just stroking his skin because he wants to. Cas forces himself not to release the sigh that desperately wants out. 

“This might hurt a bit,” Dean says. He has the corner of the tape up now, and is peeling it back gently. It does sting, but not for long. Dean tears it off smoothly, as he does with everything, and slowly starts to pull back the bandage. 

The wound looks fine, if visibly damp from the combination of the medication and being stuck under the bandage. It’s not infected, and that’s all Cas cares about. 

“Looks good, buddy,” Dean says, agreeing with Cas’ thoughts. 

Dean tears the bandage off the rest of the way, and tosses it into the trashcan near Cas’ desk. He grabs a few paper towels and carefully dabs at the wound. 

Cas watches Dean intently as he completes the rest of the process. It doesn’t hurt, but he can feel the air hitting the wound and there’s a strange displacement between his regular skin and the healing area. He’d never really noticed this difference before as an angel, because there wasn’t ever time to. His body auto-healed him the moment he became injured. As with everything in humanity, there’s a process. 

Dean smiles when he finishes, smoothing his fingers gently over the top of the bandage, careful not to bump too hard on the stitches. His fingers end up gliding across and resting just beneath the edge of Cas’ collarbone. Cas finds he suddenly can’t breathe. 

“You’re all good,” Dean says, voice too soft in the quiet surrounding them. His touch lingers for a few more seconds, and then it’s gone. He starts to clean up the supplies still resting in Cas’ lap. 

Cas is unable to stop himself as his hand moves to cover the top of one of Dean’s. Dean stills immediately and looks towards Cas with slightly widened eyes. 

“Thank you,” Cas says. He squeezes Dean’s hand and then moves back, too afraid to do anything more.

“No problem,” Dean says, and shrugs, all nonchalant. “You want anything special for dinner?” He’s getting off the bed now, taking all of the empty packages with him, and Cas immediately misses the absence of Dean’s warmth against his side. 

“No, anything is fine. Your cooking is always good,” Cas says. He’s told this Dean many times, usually at every meal, but this time, when they’re alone, Dean turns bright red. He’s a brighter shade of red than Cas has seen him, and there’s an adorable half-smile on his face that Cas would kiss off his mouth if he had the nerve. 

“Thanks, I... uh, had a lot of practice all my life, ya know, with Sam and all, but it’s nice actually having a real kitchen. But I  _ am  _ making something special tonight, so I hope you’ll like it,” Dean says. 

“I’m sure I will.” 

Cas smiles, soft and genuine, and when Dean’s smile tips up to match his own, Cas feels a warmth bloom out of his chest and spread. 

_ I love him.  _

“I’ll come and get you around six, yeah?” Dean says and Cas nods. 

“Have a good nap,” Dean says, patting Cas’ arm twice, fingers lingering briefly on the curve of his bicep. 

He squeezes once, and then he’s gone out of Cas’ room with a rush of air, taking most of the warmth with him. Cas buries himself underneath the covers, curls up on his side and focuses on the phantom touch of Dean’s hand still lingering on his arm as he slowly drifts off to sleep. 

* * *

After dinner, of Dean’s special burgers, which was of course delicious, Cas waits for Dean in his room. He watches a few funny cat videos on YouTube to pass the time, extremely nervous about this seemingly simple task Dean is about to help him with. 

It’s just a  _ shower.  _

Of course what makes it all different than a normal shower is that Dean will be in there with him, naked as well. That thought alone is what makes Cas jittery, and he’s worried he will be unable to control his bodily functions enough to stop the reaction to seeing Dean and having Dean so close to him in such an intimate setting. Cas is trying not to think about it too much, instead trying to figure out how they’re going to keep his entire leg and bandage dry. 

Cas’ heart flips in his stomach when there’s a rap on his door. He calls, “Come in,” and in comes Dean carrying a variety of items in his arms. He has one of the smaller trash bags, a roll of masking tape, and a small sandwich bag all cradled in his arms. 

“Hey,” Cas says, smiling softly. He pats the side of his bed and Dean plops down in the middle, near Cas’ knees. 

“You still feeling up to this? It’s gonna be a lot of exertion for you,” Dean asks, the bags ruffling in his arms as he shifts so he can look at Cas easier. 

“I need a shower,” Cas states plainly.

“I wasn’t gonna say it, but yeah you do,” Dean says, laughing nervously. He’s fidgeting with the stuff in his hands and it’s a comfort to Cas to know that at least he isn’t the only one who is feeling uneasy.

Cas squints at him, and Dean chuckles once he sees Cas’ perturbed expression and pats his thigh. “I’m teasing you, buddy. It also might help you feel a little bit back to normal, and help you sleep.”

“I see. How exactly do we do this?” Cas asks. 

“Well, once we get into the shower room, I’ll have you take your shirt off so we can put the smaller bag on. It should keep the water out so long as I tape it good. Then, uh, you’ll have to get the rest of your clothes off so I can tape the larger bag around your cast. It’s going to be slippery though once the bag gets wet, and I don’t know how much help you’re gonna need but I guess we will figure that out when we get in there, right?” Dean says. He’s rambling and speaking a lot faster than he normally does. 

“That sounds fine. I’m sorry I can’t do this myself,” Cas says, honest. He  _ does _ feel bad that Dean has to help him, if nothing else to spare him the inevitable awkwardness that will ensue. Regardless of his feelings for Dean, they’ve never been altogether “normal” according to usual human male standards of relationships. If only he were entirely certain that Dean felt the same way as him, he might be able to have less anxiety about this whole thing. 

“No,” Dean says quickly, resting his palm over the curve of Cas’ knee. “You don’t need to keep apologizing. I know you’d do the same for me. Like I said, I wanna help.”

“Okay.”

“Okay, so what do you need? A change of clothes, yeah? Anything else?” Dean asks. He wanders around Cas’ room like he owns it, rifling through Cas’ dresser and pulling out a pair of sweatpants and a faded blue t-shirt that used to be Dean’s. He pauses almost imperceptibly on Cas’ underwear drawer, but pulls a pair out and folds them up along with the rest of the clothes, jumbling it in his arms. 

“I think that’s it, everything else is already in the shower,” Cas says. Dean momentarily sets everything on the edge of Cas’ bed so he can haul up Cas’ crutches from where they are hiding, resting along the side of the bed. 

Cas scoots over, and moves his legs over the side of the bed so they’re dangling there and takes the crutches from Dean with a soft smile. 

The trek from his room to the shower room is thankfully short, and Cas barely gets winded by the time he steps through the door. His crutches echo on the tile as he walks, eying the length of the showers set up gym style along the wall. He stops next to the closest one, resting his crutches up on the wall next to the faucet. 

He turns and watches, holding onto the rail affixed all along the length of the row of showers, while Dean pulls the only shower chair over to Cas and deposits the larger bag and tap roll onto it. The rest of the stuff he leaves on the ledge near the entrance. He waggles his finger in the direction of Cas’ chest and asks, “Can you uh... take your shirt off?”

Heat rushes up to Cas’ cheeks, despite the lack of implication in Dean’s words. He steadies himself on one foot, and carefully works the shirt up over his head. He can tell his cheeks are still flushed even as he tosses the shirt to Dean, who folds it up and places it on the ledge. 

Dean walks over, carrying the smaller bag and the roll of tape. He smiles, shy, and ducks head while he works the tape of the edge of the roll. 

“This is the easy part. The stitches haven’t been bothering you too much since I changed the bandage yesterday, right?” Dean asks. 

“No. Sometimes they itch, but you said that’s normal,” Cas answers. His eyes zero in on the precise movements of Dean’s fingers. Dean hasn’t touched him yet, but he’s almost done lining the bag with tape, so soon. 

“Good. You’re getting better quick,” Dean says. He steps forward, into Cas’ orbit, lining up the edge of the tape just above the line of the bandage. Cas watches Dean’s face instead of his hands, observing how his eyelashes gloss over his cheek as he focuses. The pads of his fingers are warm and careful on Cas’ chest, and when Dean is done and his fingers brush down Cas’ sternum before pulling back, Cas tries not to think it means anything more than an accident.

“Okay... uh, the next part is gonna be a little trickier. We need to get your pants off, because they won’t fit over the bag and the cast, so I guess just try to get ‘em off as far as you can and then sit down and we’ll work from there?” Dean says the explanation in a jumbled mess, and his ears turn pink. He scrubs a hand through his hair nervously, and gestures at the shower chair next to Cas. 

“I can do that. It might take a minute or so, but I’ll let you know when I’m done,” Cas answers, hoping that his external calm demeanor might help calm Dean some. 

Dean nods. “Cool, I’ll just... yeah,” he mumbles, and jerkily turns around so he’s not facing Cas. He busies himself with turning on the shower, and undoing the bag for Cas’ leg. It isn’t easy to get his pants off standing on one foot but Cas does the best he can, able to shimmy both his sweatpants and underwear down to his knees until he has to hop over to the chair and sit down. The rest of the way goes smoothly once he’s sitting, and he tosses his discarded clothing onto the dry shower floor area. He feels entirely exposed, and not just because he’s naked. 

Cas crosses his hands, resting them on his upper thighs to cover his dick. Whether the show of modesty is for his benefit or Dean’s, he isn’t sure.

“Okay, I’m ready,” Cas says. 

Dean turns, grabbing the bag and tape, and closes the distance between them. He is resolutely  _ not _ looking at Cas, staring at the ground when he walks until he gets right in front of Cas’ cast. Dean kneels down in front of him and opens up the bag. He glances briefly up at Cas and freezes. Their eyes meet and Cas feels something snap between them at the contact. Dean’s eyes drift over his body, then slam down to the ground. He drops the bag and it rustles as he scrambles to pick it up. His ears are bright pink as he slowly starts slipping the bag around Cas’ cast. 

Dean is efficient: he zeros in on the task at hand, and makes sure there’s a gratuitous amount of tape wrapped around Cas’ leg. It almost looks like some sort of weird boot after he’s done, black with an uneven cream trim along the top. 

“You’re all set,” Dean says, and his voice is soft. He’s looking at Cas again, eyes darting around his face. Cas still feels just as exposed as he did a few minutes ago, but he’s not embarrassed. 

Dean stands back up and reaches out with both hands to Cas once he’s at full height to help him up. Cas rests his palms in Dean’s, grips tight, and lets Dean pull him up. Cas wobbles a little once he’s up, trying to balance on his one leg, but Dean grasps onto his bicep, steadying him.

The warm spray a few feet away looks inviting, steam billowing around the room. 

“Can I help you walk?” Dean asks. It’s a normal question, but there’s an intimacy within his tone that Cas can’t help but recognize for what he hopes it is. He finds he can’t speak and nods instead, sucking in a harsh breath when Dean wraps his right arm around Cas’ waist. He slips Cas’ arm around his shoulder and together they meander until they are both standing directly under the shower. Dean’s shirt is slowly soaking through with the water cascading down onto his head. He suddenly starts giggling, looking down at his t-shirt now clinging to his chest. He throws up his hands and grins. “Lemme just... I’ll be right back.” 

Dean lets go of Cas; with the warmth of him a few feet away, Cas feels suddenly cold even underneath the near-scalding water. Cas watches Dean strip off his soaking shirt, not bothering to hide the way he’s watching the muscles in Dean’s back as he moves. Cas should turn to the side when Dean takes his pants off - it would be the right thing to do - but he can’t seem to tear his eyes away. Dean pulls down his pants and boxers, presenting Cas with a really great view of his ass. A jolt of arousal rushes through him and Cas breathes in deep and tries to think of anything other than Dean. The last thing he needs right now is for his weak human body to make Dean aware of just how attractive Cas finds him. 

This is going to be an... interesting shower.  

Dean comes back over, and Cas desperately tries to look only at his face. He fails. Dean gently takes Cas’ hands between his, holds him tight, and Cas wonders what they’d look like right now to someone if they walked in. 

“Are you going to help me?” Cas asks. In his hyper-aware state Cas realizes they’re both desperately trying to only look into each other’s eyes, which would be fine if just looking at Dean didn’t make his knees weak. That and the combination of having only one good leg could be disastrous. 

Dean squeezes Cas’ palms between his, making Cas’ pulse start thudding underneath his skin, and says, “If... that’s okay. I don’t want you to fall.”

“I don’t want to fall either,” Cas says, then laughs at the irony of his own words and his current situation. Except, he  _ did _ want to fall. For Dean, he always had. 

“Okay... uh, I guess... well... I’m gonna be honest man, I haven’t done...” Dean says, gesturing  with one hand between the two of them, “ _ this _ in a while so, you let me know what you want or don’t want me to do.”

“I guess it would be good for me to get over to the rail just in case I get unsteady. Otherwise, I’ll let you know when I want you to stop.” Cas gives Dean an encouraging smile. He needs one right now. 

“Oh,” Dean says, ducking his head a little a smile playing on his lips, “Okay, that’s... that’s good, I can work with that.”

Dean moves, wrapping his arm around Cas’ waist again, and helps him walk over to the rail. It’s different this time, with the wet slide of his own skin gliding against Dean’s. Cas feels the sides of their hips brush together while they walk, and a jolt of electricity rushes through him. He’s overwhelmed and Dean hasn’t even started yet. 

Cas squeezes the railing with his left hand, simultaneously missing Dean’s body against his almost instantly, but glad for the sake of his own self-preservation. He closes his eyes against the downpour of the shower and slowly starts to let his muscles relax under the water. It’s good because then he can’t  _ see _ Dean. 

“Cas?” Dean asks, his voice shaking halfway through, “Can you tip your head back a bit?”

Cas does, and waits, with water pouring down the long line of his throat. When Dean finally slides his fingers into Cas’ hair, slipping between the wet strands, a sigh claws its way out of Cas’ lungs. The forest scent of Dean’s shampoo hits Cas’ nostrils and he breathes in deep, letting it soak into him, remembering all the times he’s felt comforted by this exact smell post-hunts after Dean showered. It meant Dean was okay, that they both were safe. 

Cas lulls his head into Dean’s hands, lets Dean massage at his scalp with gentle fingers. It feels good, better than good. It’s definitely arousing. Dean takes longer than Cas usually does to wash his hair, he’s taking his time. His thumb slides over the shell of Cas’ ear at one point, and a chill rushes through Cas’ body. He knows he’s half-hard, can feel it without even opening his eyes, and prays that Dean doesn’t notice. 

“You doing alright there, Cas?” Dean asks, fingers pausing their ministrations, still buried deep in the strands of Cas’ hair. He’s teasing, but there’s an undercurrent of curiosity in his tone. 

“I’m sorry,” Cas answers quietly, now actually embarrassed. He doesn’t think he will ever be able to get ahold of handling his own body. 

Dean huffs a laugh and suddenly one of his hands moves to cup Cas’ shoulder, fingers resting in the dip of Cas’ collarbone. 

“It happens,” he says, squeezing Cas’ shoulder just once, and then his hand slips back into Cas’ hair. 

He tips Cas’ head forward once he’s done scrubbing, keeps his fingers in Cas’ hair  as the water washes the shampoo out. Dean helps it along, fingers stroking through the strands. 

Cas reaches up with his free hand to make sure the soap is gone along his hairline and the pads of his fingers brush against Dean’s. It shouldn’t affect him as much as it does, but he feels like he can’t breathe. Dean’s hands slide out of his hair soon after, and Cas hears him walk a few steps away. He comes back and rests one hand on Cas’ shoulder; the other holds a slightly rough washcloth that bumps against Cas’ arm. He hears Dean grab soap, and set it back down, and then Dean’s pressing the cloth to the top of Cas’ spine. He starts at the top, with barely any pressure on Cas’ skin, gliding it from his neck, and moves back and forth. He continues across the expanse of Cas’ back, stopping when he reaches the swell of Cas’ ass, and heads back up. 

Cas feels like he’s dying. He’s practically panting from the intimacy of it all, and the presence of Dean’s hand on his skin while he holds Cas steady. Dean brings the washcloth up and lays it over Cas’ bare shoulder. 

“Anywhere else?” he asks.

“I think I got it from here,” Cas says. He reaches up and covers Dean’s hand with his own. He squeezes Dean’s hand and says, “Thank you, Dean.”

“No problem, it was my pleasure. Let me know when you’re done and I’ll help you back to the chair,” Dean says. 

It’s about that time Cas realizes he could have used the shower chair for its actual purpose, to take a shower. He didn’t think of it, mostly because of his selfish want to get Dean’s hands on his skin. He wonders why Dean didn’t think to use it. 

Dean pats Cas’ shoulder and then he’s gone, pattering off somewhere behind Cas, no doubt to get dried off and changed himself. Cas finishes up, washing as quickly as possible. He’s starting to feel weak on his good leg, shaking a little if he moves too much, and he figures it’s smart to make the rest of this shower short. 

“I’m done,” Cas says, as he’s turning off the faucet. 

Dean’s there in front of him in a few seconds, hands hovering at Cas’ waist, eyebrows crinkled in worry. 

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” Cas answers, laughing shakily. “I think I am just tired.”

“Let’s get you dried off and back in bed then, yeah?” Dean says. 

Cas nods gratefully, and allows Dean to move him, let Dean wrap his arm around his waist which is still slick with water. Cas grabs ahold of Dean’s shoulder and clings, and together they meander their way the ten feet back to where Dean piled the clean clothes. 

Dean releases him slow, waits until Cas is steady until he does, then hands him a towel. They dry off side-by-side, arms bumping as they move, and Cas blushes at the casual intimacy. He was worried about this entire ordeal being awkward, but it’s the opposite. It’s incredibly comfortable, with an undercurrent of tension that is making Cas restless and hyper aware. He only wishes he knew if Dean was having all the same sensations as him. 

Cas reaches up to take off the bandage from his chest, but Dean’s fingers bump against his. 

“Let me,” Dean says, softly, and then he’s staring right into Cas’ eyes, lips tipped up and eyes crinkling at the edges. 

Cas nods, finding that easier than speaking, and drops his eyes to watch while Dean gingerly peels the tape off his skin. Dean’s fingers trace around the lining of his bandage once he’s done, checking to make sure nothing got wet. 

“All good, here’s your shirt,” Dean says, handing Cas the pale blue t-shirt they’d brought in with them. Cas slips it on, carefully easing it down over the bandage. It’s loose on him, one of Dean’s older ones, and when he tugs on the hem it slips off one of his shoulders. 

When Cas looks up, Dean is the one blushing, and he’s holding Cas’ underwear and sweatpants in his hand. 

“I’m gonna get the bag off,” Dean explains. He clears his throat as he kneels down in front of Cas, and Cas fights back a smile when Dean’s ears turn pink.

Dean works quick, ripping off the tape efficiently and with minimal pain on Cas’ skin. The bag is soaking, and it makes a chorus of crinkling noises when Dean slides it off Cas’ foot. He slips the pair of underwear over Cas’ cast, and then nudges his ankle to get Cas to lift his other foot. 

“You get it the rest of the way,” Dean says.

Cas does, and Dean seems to feel more comfortable now that Cas’ dick is covered. The sweatpants are a little more difficult, catching on the cast, but once they’re all the way up Cas feels very comfortable and sleepy. 

Dean is still naked, which is entirely distracting. Cas lets his eyes wander as Dean turns his back to quickly dry off and change into his clothes. He comes back with Cas’ crutches, blush nearly gone from his cheeks, down to more of a rosy glow. 

“Here you go, buddy. How are you feeling?” Dean asks. 

“Sleepy,” Cas says, proving his point when a large yawn escapes his mouth. 

“I guess it’s nap time then, let’s get you back to your room,” Dean suggests. 

Cas has no use of his hands, so he lets Dean grab the discarded clothing and bags. He’s shaking again by the time he's made it inside his room, but manages to lay his crutches along the edge of the bed before hopping over to the side and climbing in. Dean comes in a few seconds later, pausing in the doorway when he sees Cas, before depositing the items outside of the doorway. 

He latches the door behind him and pulls up a chair next to Cas’ bed. Cas turns towards Dean, confused about what is going on. He adjusts his head on the pillow, drags the blankets up to his chin, and focuses on Dean. 

Dean isn’t saying anything, just staring right back at Cas with a soft expression. Sometimes, Cas wonders what would happen if they never broke eye contact. 

“Are you staying?” Cas asks, because he needs to know for his own sanity what is going on. 

“If that’s okay, I thought I would for a bit,” Dean replies. He’s looking down at his feet, wringing his hands nervously together and that’s... interesting. 

“I don’t mind, not after all the times I watched you sleep,” Cas replies. 

Dean looks up at that, smiles softly, and laughs. “You have a point.”

“Stay as long as you like, Dean,” Cas says, and since he’s sleepy and has no filter, continues, “I like having you here with me.”

“You do? Why?” Dean asks, he leans forward in his seat, forest green eyes darting back and forth over Cas’ face. 

“I feel safe, and... comfortable around you,” Cas says, keeping his eyes on Dean’s. 

Dean watches him for a moment, not replying, and then he’s scrubbing a nervous hand through his hair. 

“I feel that way too,” Dean says, in a quiet voice.

Cas smiles, and feels it brighten on his face. He’s pretty sure he’s dreaming, that in the next moment he’ll wake up and Dean will be gone. He closes his eyes and opens them slowly, just to check, and is pleased when Dean is still there, sitting a foot or so from him, beautiful as always. 

“You should sleep.” Dean reaches out and adjusts the covers near Cas’ neck, folding them over, not quite tucking him in but appreciated nevertheless. 

“You should too.”

Dean huffs, “I’m okay, don’t worry about me.”

“Dean,” Cas says, purposefully making his tone more scolding than necessary. 

“I know, I know,” Dean says.

Cas isn’t paying attention, so he barely notices the fact that Dean’s moved. He’s adjusted his chair closer to Cas’ bed, and slipped a hand underneath the covers. It takes him a second to find Cas’ hand, his palm skimming over the sheets. Dean’s fingers bump into Cas’ and he stills immediately. 

Cas holds his breath as the pads of Dean’s fingertips skim over the top of his hand and then slip underneath. Dean pauses there, the warmth of him radiating from this one touch straight into the hollows of Cas’ bones. Cas spreads his fingers apart; he hopes it serves as an invitation, and Dean takes it, slipping his fingers between Cas’. Cas clings to Dean’s fingers in turn. It isn’t the most comfortable way to hold hands, but once Dean is attached to him, neither of them let go. Cas looks up and meets Dean’s eyes, seeing a reflection of love he’s never truly viewed before. 

Cas thinks,  _ I should tell him now _ , as everything is bared open between them. His stupidly human mind chastises him.

_ He’s only doing this to comfort you. _

So he stays silent, grips tighter, and closes his eyes. He feels Dean squeeze Cas’s fingers between his just once, then relax, and start rubbing slow circles with his thumb onto the top of Cas’ pointer finger. 

Regardless of the reason, Cas lets Dean’s touch soothe him, and allows himself to wonder what it would feel like to have Dean’s hands on him as a means of desperation instead of comfort. He doesn’t think about it for too long; it makes him want too much. 

Cas drifts off to sleep soon after, enveloped in warmth and the solace of Dean surrounding him. 


	5. Chapter 5

It’s been a little over two weeks now since they’ve returned to the bunker. Despite Cas’ injuries, things have mostly gone back to normal. Sam is back from Jody’s and spends most of his days either outside on runs or inside with his nose buried in various stacks of books, researching cases for other hunters. Dean, when he’s not worried about Cas, cleans the weapons, does some research too, and cooks. He’s been cooking a lot lately. He’s starting to think he is becoming a stress cooker. This morning, when he comes into the library carrying a plate of chocolate chip cookies, Sam raises an incredulous eyebrow at him.

“Not that I’m not grateful, but how many different kinds of cookies do we need for just the three of us?”

“Uh, you can never have too many cookies, Sammy. Plus, Cas wanted chocolate chip, so,” Dean says with a shrug, and holds out the plate with a few cookies on it to Sam.

“Well thanks, I will enjoy your stress-baking for as long as it lasts,” Sam says, eating half of one cookie in a big bite, and grins.

Dean flips him off, and rolls his eyes as Sam’s laughter follows him down the hallway.

He brings Cas cookies too, a bigger plate than Sam since Cas has been more appreciative of his baking.

“You brought me cookies!” Cas says, the moment Dean walks into his room, bearing said dessert.

“Mhmm, you said you wanted some so...” Dean says with a grin, setting the plate down onto the nightstand next to Cas.

He pops one into his own mouth, and sighs in satisfaction. It’s still warm and melts in his mouth. Honestly, they’re fucking great; he added a few extra chocolate chips to make them more chocolatey and it was definitely a good decision. He nibbles on another as he watches Cas reach over and grab a cookie. Cas takes a big bite, and lets out a pornographic moan as he chews on the cookie. It makes Dean blush, because that means Cas really likes something Dean made specifically for him.

Dean has always enjoyed cooking and he gets pleasure out of seeing his loved ones enjoy his food. But with Cas, as with everything, it’s more. He was almost nervous bringing Cas a plate of cookies that Cas specially asked for; knew he’d be heartbroken if for some reason Cas didn’t like them. He wants to make Cas happy, because he’s... well, he’s in love with him. Dean’s always been better at showing love through actions.

“So I take it you like them?” Dean asks, smirking as Cas starts in on his second cookie.

Cas nods enthusiastically. “I never truly appreciated having taste buds the first time I was a human, I definitely do this time.”

“Yeah? Why’s that?”

“Eating seemed more like a nuisance then, something I had to do in order to live, which it still is, but I’m slowly starting to find it enjoyable.”

“What’s your favorite thing so far?”

“Anything you make, though I think your burgers are my favorite.”

Dean blushes - he’s been doing that a lot lately - and smiles bashfully. “Oh, really?”

“These are delicious, Dean, as is everything you cook,” Cas says with a genuine smile that has Dean feeling all gooey and warm inside like the cookies.

“Well, thanks. I think I’ve always liked cooking, ya know, even when we didn’t really have a kitchen as kids, I did the best I could to make stuff better, but now that we have the Bunker... it’s like a whole new ball game and I can try so many things. I just... I like making people happy, and food does that so...” Dean ends his mini-rant with a shrug, amazed that he allowed himself to divulge so much. This is Cas, though; over the past ten years of their relationship, Dean’s found that the rules he put up for himself don’t apply.

“I’m glad it makes you happy,” Cas replies, “you deserve it.” He’s smiling softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners, and it’s all Dean can do to stop himself from closing the few feet between them and kissing him.

“Thanks,” he says instead, and stuffs another cookie into his mouth to staunch the urge to drown himself in Cas.

“Did you need something else, or did you just want to see me?” Cas asks, and Dean swears there’s an undercurrent of flirtatious teasing in his tone. He’s probably hallucinating or something.

“Uh, well, actually, I figured it was time to change your bandage, but we can wait a bit if you don’t wanna do it now,” Dean says.

“Now is fine, I wasn’t busy. Just reading,” Cas replies, and holds up a small paperback that looks very similar to one of the ones Dean owns.

“Who brought you the books?” Dean asks, seeing that there is a stack on Cas’ desk, all small paper books that look suspiciously like romance novels. “Didn’t know you were into love stories.”

“Sam brought them,” Cas says, handing Dean the book. Upon further inspection it is indeed a romance novel he had in his room. Terrific. Sam’s dead. “And yes, I tend to be quite fond of them. Though the stories are always different than real life, people communicate better in stories.”

Dean snorts at that, and turns over the book from front to back, eying the half-naked cowboy on the front. **_One Night Rodeo_ **. He remembers picking this book out purely for superficial reasons. The dude on the cover is wearing leather chaps, who could blame Dean for being drawn to such a cover?

“Cowboys, huh?” Dean asks, feigning disinterest.

“Mhmm, seemed interesting, and I am rather intrigued by the lines that you starred throughout the book.”

“What?!” Shit. He’d forgotten about that.

“- specifically the highly descriptive line about Kyle’s ass in assless chaps,” Cas says, smirking at Dean.

“I hate you.”

“I’m sure that’s completely true,” Cas says with a wink.

Dean slaps Cas’ arm lightly with the book and rolls his eyes. “I’m never letting you read another one of my books again.”

“I’ll just steal them from your room,” Cas retorts, eyes challenging him.

“Fine, enjoy all my annotations then.”

“Oh, I will.”

They both dissolve into laughter that has Dean’s sides aching when he finally stops.

“Right, bandage,” Dean says, remembering why he originally came in here other than to deliver cookies. He pats Cas’ arm and rises from his chair, grinning even as he walks over to the dresser and finds the supplies. He gathers up all the necessary items and heads back to Cas’ bedside, resting the fresh bandage on the top of Cas’ blanket, and pulls his chair closer.

“How has it been feeling? The stitches will be able to come out pretty soon,” Dean says.

“Good, the itching is nearly non-existent now, and it doesn’t hurt too bad either. That means it must be healing right?” Cas asks.

“Mhmm, guess that means your body is working correctly.”

“Well, that’s good. Sometimes, I’m unsure,” Cas deadpans and Dean starts giggling.

He tries to steady his fingers as he opens the packages with a new bandage and unrolls the right amount of tape he needs to fit around the edges.

“Alright, just hold still,” Dean says.

He sucks in a breath, because touching Cas always has a weird effect on him. It’s like a magnet, once he starts he doesn’t want to stop and that’s all kinds of dangerous. His fingertips ghost over the top of Cas’ chest as he pulls back the tape of the old bandage. It goes easily, but he keeps darting his eyes up to check Cas’ face to make sure he’s not hurting him. Cas is fine, not even cringing, simply watching Dean’s fingers in intense concentration. Cas’ skin is warm underneath the pads of his fingers and Dean can’t help but lingering, tracing his fingers around the mark and the tape left on his skin.

“How many more times do you think we will need to do this?” Cas whispers. He glances up; Dean’s eyes meet his, and he’s held there trapped in the blue of them. His fingers freeze where they’re resting to the right of Cas’ sternum. He can feel the faint beat of Cas’ heart under his hand, strong and even. Cas almost died right in front of him, but he’s here right now, and Dean can literally feel that fact. It strikes something deep inside him, and he feels the emotion bubbling up, but pushes it down, for now.

“Probably one or two, then the stitches can come out,” Dean states, shaking himself out of the myriad thoughts popping up in his head.

“I’ll be glad to get back to normal, and not be laid up all the time,” Cas says.

“I bet.” Dean focuses on cleaning the wound, dabbing at it with a clean towel, but it looks fine.There’s nothing worrisome, which is the best he could hope for. He flattens a new bandage over Cas’ chest, and rips off a few stripes of tape. He presses them down at the corners, and smoothes them out, until the bandage is sealed and even. Idly, one of his fingers rests on the corner of the tape closest to Cas’ sternum, rubbing gentle circles into his skin.

He should stop, he needs to stop, but he can’t move. Cas is warm, and they’re doing that thing where they just stare at each other for what feels like hours until one of them breaks, usually Dean. It eventually becomes too much, and he can’t afford to do something stupid like kiss him. He knows he would if he kept looking. It’s always been like that, hovering on the edge and pulling back at the last second.

“Do you think we could go for a walk later, outside? I need to start walking further distances, even if I am still on crutches and fresh air would be nice,” Cas asks.

“You don’t have to ask, Cas, you can go anytime,” Dean says.

“I know, but I’d like it if you came with me,” Cas says, eyes sparkling, and suddenly Dean can’t breathe.

“Oh,” Dean says, blushing. “When?”

“Now?”

“Yeah, we might catch the end of sunset.”

Dean gets up, and pushes back the chair. He holds his hand out to Cas, not because Cas needs the help but Dean wants another excuse to touch him, and this is as good of one as any. Cas takes his hand, standing up to full height, and smiles.

“Can you get me a sweater?”

“Which one?”

“Surprise me,” Cas says.

Dean picks a dark gray blue one that matches the light shirt Cas is wearing. Dean waits until Cas finds his balance to hand it to him, and watches as Cas slips it over his head. His hair is mussed and Dean automatically reaches up to drag his hand through the short strands, to try and get it back to normal.

He looks adorable, warm, and comfy. Dean wants to rest his head on Cas’ chest, wrap his arms around him, and lay like that for hours. Instead, he grabs Cas’ crutches and hands them to him.

They pass Sam in the main room, who is buried in a book, but he looks up when he hears Cas’ crutches echoing as they hit the tile.

“Hey, where you guys headed?” he asks, peering over the book at the two of them.

“Cas wanted some fresh air, so we’re gonna go for a short walk outside,” Dean explains.

“Enjoy, Cas. I’m sure it will feel good,” Sam says, smiling at Cas.

“Thanks Sam, me too.”

Stairs are not easy for Cas, but the shortest way is up instead of through the garage and out. Dean lets Cas go first, going up right behind him, hands ready in case he gets unsteady or tired. He has to take a break at the top, taking in two large lungfuls of air before he nods at Dean with a shaky smile. “I’m good.”

Dean rests his hand on the middle of Cas’ back, palm wide and steady, and asks, “Are you sure?”

“Mhmm, let’s go.” Cas nods.

The moment they get outside, the sun is just starting to dip beneath the horizon. Cas keeps walking away from the door to the edge of the nearest field, and Dean follows, knowing he’s going to the spot where the view is best. The wind is chilly, whipping Dean’s hair atop his head in every direction and sending gushes of cool air through the fabric of his shirt. The sunset is gorgeous. It’s golden right now, the tip of it hiding just under the horizon and it sparks every stalk of grass yellow.

Dean hears Cas breathe in and then release. He looks over at him and finds Cas grinning with wide-eyed fascination at the world around him.

“It’s beautiful,” Cas breathes.

“It really is.”

Dean moves closer to him, so their shoulders are brushing, and stares out at the expanse of the fields meeting the horizon. The sky is bright orange now, colors intensifying the further the sun sinks. He’s seen a lot of sunsets, but this one is really putting on a show.

“Dean?”

“Yeah, Cas?”

“Can I tell you something I’ve never told anyone before?”

“Of course.”

Dean turns to look at him and watches Cas lick his lips and consider his thoughts before he begins.

“The feeling you get when you watch a sunset? That’s what it was like when I took my first breath as a human,” Cas says, voice quiet.

“Really?” Dean asks, briefly looking out at the sky in front of him. There are streaks of orange and red now, and the few clouds lingering on the edges of the horizon have been washed pink.

Cas nods, and then continues, “It’s exhilarating, but peaceful. And you don’t expect to feel like you’re coming home, but that’s exactly what it feels like. Something old dying, but knowing that the new beginning is going to be so much better.”

“Feels like coming home, huh?”

“I never really fit in up there anyway,” Cas says, eyes darting up to the heavens above him. There’s a sad sort of smile on his lips, but when he turns back and looks at Dean, it’s soft and bright, and the glow of the setting sun makes him look ethereal in the same way he did the night Dean met him in that barn so many years ago.

Dean isn’t paying attention to anything but Cas’ face, so when Cas’ fingers bump against the side of his hand, Dean jumps a little in surprise. He looks at Cas expectantly, not that he’s complaining, but they keep doing this. It’s become their thing, holding hands.

“My hands are cold,” Cas offers with a slight shrug.

“You need better excuses,” Dean replies.

Dean takes his hand, slips his fingers between Cas’ and presses their palms together. They fit so well - which of course they do. Cas gives his hand a quick squeeze, and when Dean’s eyes can’t help but drift towards him again, he’s grinning.

A minute later the sky lightens into a color palette of crimson and peach above their heads in every direction around them.

Dean doesn’t know what his first breath felt like, but to him, sunsets feel like falling in love. A slow, but steady fall, and then everything comes alive with color.

They stay there, standing side-by-side, fingers interlocked until lights from the distant houses start flicking on, like messages in morse code. The sunset fades, turning from pastels into dark blue and then black. Street lights appear and Dean can scarcely see the lines of Cas’ face anymore. He can tell that Cas is shivering, even underneath his sweater, which means it’s definitely time for them to go inside.

He squeezes Cas’ hand one last time, and then releases him.

“Let’s go back in,” Dean says.

“Yes, I think I need to warm up,” Cas agrees. He fumbles a little with his crutches, no doubt due to cold hands, but gets a good speed going as they had back towards the house.

 _I could warm you up_ , Dean thinks, then mentally curses his own brain.

Dean follows Cas into the kitchen where he tries to start heating up the kettle for tea. Dean wants to help, but there’s a resolute look on Cas’ face that Dean takes to mean stay back, so he does. He pops himself open a beer, and settles in at the kitchen table, watching as Cas meanders about the room looking for tea and finding a mug.

The kettle gives off a high pitched squeal, and Dean watches as Cas methodically pours the steaming liquid into his ceramic mug, the bag of jasmine tea floating inside. It’s right about that time Cas realizes he can’t use crutches and hold a mug of tea at the same time. Dean notices before he does, and is on his feet before Cas has to ask him, gingerly taking the warm mug from his hands and taking it back to the table.

“Thank you, Dean. I needed that,” Cas says, once he sits.

He takes a careful sip of his tea, hands wrapped around the mug and peering over the rim at Dean.

“Yeah, of course. It was nice.”

“I was thinking, while we were out there, if maybe when I’m better I could start a garden?” Cas asks.

“I mean sure, but why?” Dean asks. He can picture it so clearly, Cas out in the sunshine, wearing a wide-brimmed straw hat, his hands and knees covered in brown dirt, already tan skin made even tanner from being out in the sunshine all the time.

“The idea of growing my own food, and tending to something, taking care of it... I don’t know... it sounds nice. Bonding with the earth so to speak,” Cas explains, looking contemplative as he sips at his tea.

“You sound like a hippie,” Dean teases.

“But you wouldn’t mind?” Cas says. He seems worried about Dean’s disapproval, which is strange because this is Cas’ home too, he can do whatever he wants.

“Well no, you live here too, if you want a garden you can have a garden, just don’t expect me to be out there helping you all the time. I’m sure you can recruit Sam though, he’s always been into that stuff.”

“I only expect you to cook the things I harvest,” Cas says, smile half hidden behind the mug.

“I can do that,” Dean says, grinning and clinking his bottle with Cas’ mug.

They sit there for awhile, both sipping on their respective beverages, until Dean starts to notice Cas’ eyes getting heavy.

“You getting tired?” Dean asks.

Cas nods, and out comes a big yawn that wracks his entire body, “I guess so.”

“I was gonna start dinner, but I can wait a bit,” Dean says. He finishes the dregs of his beer, and tosses the can behind him into the recycling bin.

“No, don’t wait on me. Just leave me some in the fridge, I might be a while.” Cas looks earnest, eyes all scrunchy and Dean knows better than to argue with that face.

“Alright, I’ll save a plate for you. Get some sleep,” Dean says, smiling at him.

Cas takes a few more sips of his tea and then gets up. Dean grabs his crutches for him, waiting until Cas has his balance to hold them out to him. He’s not expecting Cas to lean forward and pull him into a hug. He sucks in a shocked breath as Cas’ arms wrap around him, hands coming to rest on the middle of Dean’s back. He clings to him tight, and says right against Dean’s ear, “Thank you so much for tonight.”

It takes Dean a minute to get with the program, but once he does, he grabs ahold of the back of Cas’ shirt and pulls him in close, encircling him in his arms. It feels so good to just hug, to just hold him. They need to do this more often, if not other things Dean hasn’t thought about broaching the topic of yet.

“You really don’t need to keep thanking me,” Dean murmurs, internally dying when he feels Cas’ stubble rub against his cheek.

“Well, I’m going to so you’re going to have to deal with that,” Cas states matter-of-factly.

“I guess so,” Dean replies. He squeezes Cas once, and lets go right then. He doesn’t trust himself to be able to hold on longer without doing something.

“See you in a few hours,” Cas says, looking at him.

Dean wants nothing more than to follow him into his room, curl up and fall asleep surrounded by Cas, but he can’t.

“See you,” he says, instead, with a cheesy little wave.

He watches Cas head down the hall, slowly crutch-ing his way along. He turns around to start heating up the stove only once Cas has rounded the corner and he’s out of eyesight.

* * *

For the first time, Cas’ room feels lonely when he returns to it. It’s not unwelcoming or cold, in fact Dean turned the heat on after they came inside from their walk, but there’s still a chill there. It’s not that he’s ever minded being alone, but after having Dean in here with him while he slept, Cas truly doesn’t want to sleep any other way. And Dean had simply held his hand.

The longing reverberates through him as Cas moves to rest his crutches on the floor, eyeing the chair next to his bed where Dean had been a few hours earlier, hand warm and soft under Cas’ own. Cas doesn’t even know if Dean had fallen asleep, or just watched over him while he did. It’s almost like they traded spots.

Being human is difficult and terrible in so many ways. His body aches all the time, and not just because of his recent wounds, but because of normal aches and pains. His mortal body is needy, constantly in want of food, water, the bathroom - or some of the time, sex. Much of it Cas doesn’t mind, but some he finds irritating. He’s never liked feeling weak, except when it came to Dean.

Back in the kitchen the urge to hug Dean, to touch him in some way, had been overwhelming, so he acted on it. The rush of want had been blooming since he’d held Dean’s hand outside at sunset, existing only for pure needs. If he had it his way, he’d have Dean in his arms right now, their limbs tangled together, hands nervously exploring while they kiss lazily until one or both of them drift off to sleep.

Dean is a romantic, but Cas is too. He hasn’t always been but over the years of watching humanity work, he’s seen a lot of love, a lot of loss, but not until Dean had it ever been something he’d wanted for himself.

Cas lies down, drags the covers up to his chin, and tries to get comfortable. His bed feels emptier, cold, and he’s unsettled by sleeping directly in the middle, so he keeps off to the side. He’s caught at an impasse, between wanting to know what Dean means by this newfound casual touching between them, but not wanting to sour their relationship the way that it is.

He’d be content if this is all Dean can give him. It’s not what he wants, not even close, but he’d take it if it meant being here with him always.

Cas thinks back to the past hour, on all that transpired between them. Nothing truly out of the ordinary, but he keeps replaying the feel of Dean’s warm hand tangling with his. It’s easy to remember, with how often they’ve been holding hands lately. His mind drifts, thinking about how Dean’s fingers had lingered when he was changing Cas’ bandage. They’d ghosted over his skin like Cas was something delicate, something to be adored.

He wonders often how Dean’s hand would feel on the rest of his skin. The shower earlier this week had been agonizing and left arousal humming underneath his skin even through his exhaustion. He’d made himself come, later on, imagining the way Dean’s slicked-up body would have felt grinding against his. How Dean sounds when he gets close, breathy gasps as Cas would pull Dean closer against him, reveling in the smooth desperate fuck of Dean’s hips rocking into him.

Cas thought he was too tired for this, but his mind is not agreeing with him, delivering him constant scenarios of all the different ways he could be with Dean. He’s chosen not to deny himself anything, even though he should, logically not think about Dean like this.

Masturbation and sex are one of humanity’s perks for sure.

He’s definitely aroused, his dick half-hard underneath his sweatpants, heat creeping up his neck as the urge to touch himself races through Cas’ body. Cas settles on one of the dozens of ideas floating around in his head, and sighs out as he slips his hand underneath the waistband of his sweatpants, fingers barely brushing the top of his dick.

In his mind, Dean mouth is hot and wet against Cas’ neck, as he hovers over him. He sucks a mark into the side of Cas’ neck that will be red and swollen later, a reminder of what they did together. He groans out Cas’ name as Cas grips his hips tight and flips them over so Dean is underneath him, and kisses him. When their mouths finally part, Dean looks debauched, lips wet and even more plump looking than normal, and Cas drags his tongue along those lips to taste him again.

Cas is definitely hard now, and he wraps his hand around his dick with a loose fist, slowly stroking up. He whimpers as a jolt of arousal shoots through him and starts up a slow even pace of fucking into his fist.

He never enjoyed jerking off as an angel, as it didn’t really do anything for him, but as a human? It’s completely overwhelming, and is the closest thing he’s found that feels like flying.

He thinks about Dean’s hand instead of his wrapped around both of their dicks, sliding them in his fist together, entirely too much friction but not enough at the same time. Cas thumbs over the head of his dick, and groans when he feels the wetness pooling there and drags it back down to slick himself up. He jacks himself quicker, feeling pleasure rush down his spine as he thinks about the way Dean’s tongue would feel in his mouth, how soft his lips would be when he kisses Cas.

Cas wants everything with him, everything that Dean will give him.

Cas comes a few seconds later, right into his fist, with a groan of Dean’s name. He strokes himself through the aftershocks, until he’s trembling and every nerve ending is hypersensitive to any touch, then relaxes back into the mattress. He sucks in a few deep breaths as his heart starts to return back to its normal pace and cringes when he realizes he has nothing to clean himself up with.

He ends up taking off a pillowcase of one of the three pillows on his bed and using that to clean up because that’s better than having to answer questions about why one of the sheets is off his bed. Not that Dean would ask, but he might and Cas doesn’t know how he’d react in that situation so better to avoid it.

Cas is truly exhausted now. His body is wearing thin after the exertion of the past few minutes and earlier today. It’s the bone-aching sort of exhaustion that he knows means he’s going to be out for at least a couple of hours, maybe longer. He thinks about Dean in the kitchen cooking, the plate that’s he’s going to leave waiting for Cas in the fridge later, and wonders what Dean’s thinking about, hoping he’s thinking about Cas just like Cas is thinking about him.

Cas rolls over onto his side, leaving his nightstand lamp on, and curls his hands underneath his pillow. Consciousness slips away quickly, but his final thoughts as he’s drifting go to how Dean’s hug felt like finally coming home.


	6. Chapter 6

Dean gets up early the day Sam heads out again to visit Jody. It’s another routine case, just like the one a week or so ago, but he wants to send him off with a good lunch, just like he’s a little boy heading off to school. He says as much, and delights at the glower Sam gives him, even as he accepts the sandwich and bag of chips Dean shoves into his hand. 

“Tell Jody we said hello and send our love,” Dean says, as Sam revs the Impala to life. It will never not look weird seeing his brother drive his car. 

“I will, take good care of Cas,” Sam calls back, waving at Dean out the open front window. 

“You know it,” Dean replies, grinning and waving back as Sam peels out of the driveway. He sends gravel flying once he gets out of the garage. Dean will, in fact, kill him if Sam fucks up the undercarriage. 

It’s still early, only barely past seven, and when Dean passed by Cas’ room he could hear soft snores echoing out into the hallway. It’s better not to disturb him, because he needs his sleep, and as much as Dean wants to check-in, he doesn’t want to be too much. He knows he has been, but Cas has been nothing but gracious about it.

Dean decides to make breakfast. He’s got one cup of coffee in him and a jubilant feeling in his body that means heading back to sleep for a couple more hours just isn’t in his cards today. He grabs a case of bacon out of the fridge and a carton of eggs. Dean gets the bacon going first, probably throws too many pieces down into the pan, but if there is leftovers that means bacon tomorrow too. Once it starts sizzling, he starts making the scrambled eggs. Now Dean, he makes scrambled eggs differently than most people; sure, he uses cheese, salt, and pepper, but he throws in a little extra cayenne seasoning in there too, to give it some flavor. He gets a few pieces of bread together and into the toaster, rummaging around in the fridge until he finds the blackberry jam that Cas picked out at the store a few weeks ago. 

One thing Dean realized this past summer was that Cas really likes blackberries. He loves blackberry pie, jam, anything. Dean has made it a point to bring him a variety of random blackberry things he finds at the store, which recently meant tea. Cas wasn’t overly fond of that, but still gave Dean one of his special smiles just for the thought alone. On mornings Dean doesn’t cook breakfast, he’s found Cas sitting in the kitchen, a cup of coffee in one hand, a piece of toast and blackberry jam in the other, eyes still droopy with sleep. 

It’s adorable, and Dean tries to purposefully get up a little bit after Cas does just so he can see him so happy. If Dean’s being honest, when Cas told him the reason why he wanted to be human, to live out a normal life to stay with him and Sam, Dean was worried. He didn’t want Cas to regret his decision. 

He hasn’t, though, at least not to Dean’s knowledge, and has embraced his new way of life. It’s still weird to think about him being human and the fact that Cas now needs all of the same things Dean does. Like coffee, which Dean decides to put on another pot of immediately as soon as all the food is cooking. If there’s one thing Cas needs in the morning, it’s coffee. Dean is flipping the eggs around in the pan, when he hears the quiet thud of crutches on the tile in the kitchen. He turns and looks over his shoulder and sees Cas, hair disheveled atop his head, eyes still blinking away sleep. 

“Hey, you’re awake,” Dean says, grinning at him.

“Unfortunately,” Cas grumbles back, and Dean can’t help but laugh as he turns back to flip the eggs some more.  

“Coffee?” Dean asks, knowing the answer is yes. 

He hears Cas scoot the chair over the tile and rest this crutches down on the ground with a metallic thud. 

“Please,” is all Cas replies, and when Dean turns back to sneak a look at him, he’s sitting in the chair, wiping the sleep out of his eyes with loose fists. 

Dean leaves the eggs for a moment, and grabs a mug out of the cupboard, filling it nearly to the brim with steaming coffee. He drops two tablespoons of sugar in and a long drip of cream, swirling the liquid around until it’s a dark tan. 

“Coffee for a sleepyhead,” Dean says, setting the mug down in front of Cas with a flourish and a grin.

Cas looks blearily up at him, and then down at the steaming mug right in front of his face. Dean feels his heart flutter as a small smile finds its way onto Cas’ face. 

He takes a long sip, closes his eyes and sighs in happiness. Dean’s grin expands, that’s enough of a thank you for him, and heads back over to the stove to start dishing up the food.

“Coffee and breakfast?” Cas asks, and Dean hears the tone of surprise in his voice.

“Mhmm, I would have brought it to you in bed, but you got down here first,” Dean says, as he plates up the bacon, trying not to get popping grease on his arms. 

“You keep this up, I might have to marry you.”

Dean freezes, spatula frozen hovering above the still sizzling pan where the bacon was. He didn’t just say what Dean think he did, Dean is hearing things. 

“What?” Dean squeaks. He finally starts moving again, getting some eggs onto the spatula, desperately waiting for Cas’ answer. 

Cas chuckles. “You heard me.”

Dean blushes and tries to figure out which of the retorts in his head he wants to say back. He doesn’t say anything though, finds that none sound right and drops it instead. 

Cas’ words repeat in his head, over and over again, even after he’s set down both of their plates and sits across from Cas to start eating.

Literally, what the fuck.

Of course Cas was joking, right? He had to be, he  _ sounded _ like he was. 

Cas is looking at him right now though, expression quizzical, which Dean thinks is probably due to the fact that Dean probably looks like he is freaking out. He is. Which is why when Cas speaks again Dean is not expecting what comes out of his mouth.

“Have you ever tried making blackberry pancakes?” 

“What?” Dean mumbles, around a mouth full of bacon.

“I think it would be good, more bitter than blueberries, but if you had a different type of syrup it would probably blend well,” Cas continues on, face contemplative as he takes a bite of toast. 

“Probably. Guess I’ll have to try it one of these days. We really gotta get you some blackberry ice cream, that shit’s great,” Dean says. He picks up a piece of bacon and shoves it into his mouth. He freezes mid-chew when Cas looks up at him and smiles softly. 

“Stop looking at me like that,” Dean mutters, dropping his eyes, feeling heat rising on his cheeks. Man, it’s too early for whatever the fuck is happening right now. 

He looks up and sees Cas rolling his eyes, then his hand is moving and covering one of Dean’s where it’s rested on the table. 

“Thank you for making breakfast and the coffee,” Cas says.

He squeezes Dean’s hand once, smiles, and then goes back to eating like everything is normal and Dean’s entire body isn’t buzzing just from Cas touching his hand. 

“No problem,” Dean manages to get out. “Do you have any plans for today?” He’s trying to change the subject because he can’t handle whatever it is they were about to broach right this second at the fucking kitchen table. 

“Not particularly, maybe some reading. I was wondering if you would be willing to help me take a shower again. I feel like I need one,” Cas says. He sips at his coffee, looking at Dean over the rim. 

“Yeah, I can help. When do you wanna do that?” Dean asks. The idea of seeing Cas naked again sparks something inside Dean, even though he knows nothing is going to happen. The past few times have been so intimate and the undercurrent of tension snapping between them palpable. 

“I was thinking after breakfast, unless that’s too soon I can wait,” Cas replies. 

“No, that’s fine. We can head down there after I get the dishes washed.” Dean gulps down a bit of his coffee, trying to curb the lingering nervousness bubbling in his stomach. He doesn’t know why he’s more nervous this time, though it might have something to do with Cas’ recent flirtatious comments. 

“Okay, that sounds good,” Cas says. 

They finish their breakfast in companionable silence, sipping at their coffee until it’s gone. Dean gets up at some point to refill Cas’ mug, making sure to put the correct cream to sugar ratio into the liquid and mix it well. Cas has a quirky little smile on his face when he comes back; Dean knows it’s because he made it just how Cas makes his own coffee. And that thought definitely makes Dean feel all warm inside. 

“I’ll go get everything ready,” Cas says, as he stands up to leave. He leaves his dishes on the table, and Dean piles their plates together and takes them to the sink. He washes them quickly, eager to get upstairs, and leaves them to dry on the holder by the sink. 

He dries his hands on the dish towel hanging off of the oven, and steels himself by taking a deep breath. He needs to get himself together before he goes up there, because this isn’t about  _ him  _ and what he wants and the way he falls apart the moment Cas touches him, this is about helping his friend. 

* * *

Dean doesn’t find Cas in his room, so he goes searching for him and finds him already in the shower room. Cas somehow managed to carry his clothes into there, including an extra pair of pants which Dean assumes are for him.

“I could have gotten that for you,” Dean says, coming in and moving to Cas’ side to help him, but Cas just shakes his head. 

“It’s okay, I wanted to try to get it myself, and I did,” Cas states, smiling a little. It is a big deal, since he’s been struggling with the crutches since he started using them, but now it seems like he’s started to get a handle of things. 

“You did great,” Dean says, “You ready to do this?”

He’d stopped by his room on the way to find Cas and grabbed a few plastic bags to cover Cas’ various injuries. His stitches are almost healed, so it won’t be long before he only needs the foot bag. 

“I’m ready.”

Cas sits in the shower chair and grabs the neck hole of his shirt, pulling it up and off over his head. He tosses it onto the floor nearby, and Dean watches him examine the bandage on his chest with his fingers. 

They’ve done this whole process about seven times now, and Cas could easily cover the bandage himself, but he still lets Dean do it. Dean isn’t completely sure what to make of that, but he thinks he’s starting to get it. 

He grabs the tape and the smaller bag, walking over to Cas. Today, he decides to be more daring, standing as close as he thinks Cas will allow him to, with one thigh between Cas’ and the other bracketing his other thigh. He leans over just a tad so he can see better as he places the bag down with careful fingers and slowly starts to line it with tape. Cas’ breath ghosts warm on his neck,  sending a shiver down his spine. He barely manages to hold himself back from dragging his fingers up and along Cas’ bare collarbones. 

“Feel secure enough?” Dean asks, his voice loud to his own ears in the small expanse of air between them.

“Yes,” Cas breathes out, and Dean could kiss him so easily, he’s so close. 

Dean steps back, out of Cas’ intoxicating orbit, and sighs heavily.

“Good, well you know the drill for the rest so,” He gestures at the rest of Cas’ body with his hand, gives him an awkward smile, and turns his back busying himself with taking off his socks and shirt.

“Ready,” Cas says softly, and Dean turns back to him. 

Cas isn’t being shy, he’s not covering himself up, he’s just...  _ there, _ and naked, and Dean can’t  _ not  _ look at him. He gives Cas what he hopes is a subtle full body glance, then forces himself to look away, turning his gaze to the black bag in his hand and the tape. He kneels at Cas’ feet, and gently grabbing ahold of the back of his casted calf and lifts it up, slipping the bag on. He should feel weirder about this, but he doesn’t. Dean glances up at him through his eyelashes and finds Cas watching him intently, face an unreadable expression. 

Cas is human, but sometimes he still looks holy, and Dean swears when they look at each other the earth is about to quake under him. Dean has always felt unworthy of him, which is probably why they are in this weird dance situation to begin with. But Cas is, well,  _ Cas _ . He’s never been just anyone. 

Dean makes sure the bag is good and tight before he pats Cas’ knee and returns back to his feet, groaning when his knees pop as he stands. 

“Lemme just... get these off and I’ll help you,” Dean says. He changes out of his sweatpants and underwear quickly, throwing them into the joined pile of Cas’ things, and heads back over. He’s acutely aware of Cas’ eyes on him without looking, his skin burns with it, and he doesn’t dare look up, knowing that whatever he finds contained within Cas’ eyes might completely knock him off his axis. 

He does look up when he gets close, but just briefly to make sure Cas is steady on his feet, before Dean slips an arm around his waist and swings Cas’ arm over his shoulder. They start walking, and it goes quite easily; after seven times they’ve both gotten a hang of the whole thing. Dean can feel Cas’ ribs under his palm, the bumps of them, and the heat of his skin is already overwhelming and they haven’t even reached the shower yet.

Dean feels more comfortable now letting Cas stand on his own than he did the first time they did this. He releases him when they reach the railing, regretfully letting go of Cas’ side, fingers lingering a little too long on his skin. Sue him, Dean doesn’t care anymore. 

Cas flips on the shower, and turns it to the H. It takes a few seconds for the water to warm up, and Dean uses that time to go grab a few washcloths, his shampoo, and body wash. 

Cas is under the spray when Dean comes back, running his hands through his hair while steam swirls up around him. Dean pauses to just look at him, watching how the water cascades down the lines of his body. Cas catches him, and looks over with a shy smile that has heat rushing throughout Dean’s body. 

Maybe he is right about this. 

Dean tries to focus on anything other than the expanse of skin in front of him as he rests all of the shower supplies on the railing, and moves to settle himself behind Cas. He places a hand on Cas’ shoulder to let him know he’s there, and hears Cas sigh when he does. Dean suddenly feels like he can’t breathe, and it’s not because he’s currently standing under a cascade of water. 

“You good?” Dean asks, checking in because this feels  _ different _ this time. 

“Yes, you can go ahead,” Cas says. He cards his fingers through his hair, getting it wet again, and nods. 

The shampoo feels cold between Dean’s palms, a sharp contrast to the air and combined heat from their bodies. He lathers it between his hands, getting it warmer and soapy. His hands are shaking when he reaches up to start working the soap into Cas’ hair. This didn’t happen last time, but last time didn’t feel like this. 

Dean takes his time, plays with Cas’ hair while he washes it, drags his fingers along his scalp, scritching at it and making Cas’ giggle by sliding his fingers along the sensitive spot right behind his ear. He goes for way longer than necessary, but Cas doesn’t seem to mind. He has his eyes closed, and a soft expression on his face, preening under the attention Dean is giving him. 

“All done,” Dean murmurs, hand slipping out of Cas’ hair. He takes a chance and lets his hand trail down the line of Cas’ neck, feeling his heart catch in his throat when Cas shivers against his hand as it rests on the curve of his spine. 

Cas stays for a moment, and Dean doesn’t dare move. He holds his breath until Cas’ moves his hands and angles his head back under the spray slowly starting to rinse the soap from his hair. Dean keeps touching him because Cas hasn’t told him not to. He’s already come this far, what’s one more step?

They’ve been through too much the past ten years. Solace is never easily found for Dean, but he thinks he could find something close to that with Cas. He’s wanted to for so goddamn long. 

Dean eyes the patch covering Cas’ stitches, noticing how the tape is curving up a bit, stickiness loosening under the hot water. He thinks how about how close he was to losing Cas. How if the werewolf had just flung him a little bit harder, or torn through his chest a little deeper, Cas wouldn’t be here, warm and alive under his hands. 

Dean takes a step, moving further into Cas’ space, and slides his arms around Cas’ waist, burying his nose in the crook of Cas’ neck. He holds on tight, and waits, heart hammering in his chest for whatever comes next. 

“Dean?” Cas asks, voice quiet, surprised. His hands drop from his hair and land on Dean’s forearms. 

Dean takes a deep breath, and finally, lets go. 

“When we were in the woods, back in Colorado, I was so fucking scared, Cas. I heard you scream and I thought I lost you again. I...” Dean’s voice falters, and he feels the tears welling up. “I couldn’t lose you again, I felt like I was going to die last time, but this time it would’ve been final, and I just... I don’t know what I would have done.”

Dean is shaking, his body betraying his emotions in the most obvious way, and he feels Cas’ grip on his arms tighten. 

“I’m here, Dean. I’m okay and I’m not going anywhere,” Cas whispers. He turns his head to the side, towards Dean, and the tip of his nose grazes Dean’s cheek. Dean feels a sigh punch from his lungs.

“I’m so fucking in love with you,” Dean says, and it’s freeing finally saying it out loud after so many years. 

Dean feels Cas smile against his cheek more than he sees it as he says, “I hoped you were.”

“Wait, does that mean--” Dean stops, unable to say it out loud. He wants - no, he  _ needs  _ to hear Cas say it. 

Cas chuckles, and presses a chaste kiss on Dean’s cheek, “Yes, Dean, I am in love with you too.”

“Thank God,” Dean murmurs, and they both start laughing. 

Dean tightens his grip on Cas’ waist and leans back a little so he can kiss his jaw, letting his lips linger against Cas’ wet skin. Cas sighs, eyes fluttering shut, and Dean feels Cas’ fingers move to cover Dean’s hands where they rest lying across his stomach, stroking across the lines of them with his fingertips. 

“I wanna see you,” Cas says, he tries to half-turn, half-hop on one foot so he can face Dean,  wobbling unsteady on his good foot.

“Wait, let me help,” Dean says, chuckling at Cas’ eagerness but knowing exactly how he feels.

Dean grips his arm, and places another on his back, and helps Cas turn so they’re facing each other. Cas’ arms instantly wind around his neck, and Dean’s hands fall to rest on Cas’ waist. He makes his grip strong to keep him up, and leans in just enough so they’re breathing shared air. 

“You should kiss me, it’s not like I’ve been waiting for ten years or anything,” Cas says. He deadpans it, but his mouth is twitching so Dean knows he’s teasing. Dean feels a rush through him at the fact that Cas has been wanting to kiss him just as long as he’s wanted to kiss Cas.

God, they’ve been so dumb.

“Well in that case, what’s another thirty seconds,” Dean says with a tiny shrug, watching as Cas narrows his eyes at him.

“Dean.”

Dean laughs and finally, fucking  _ finally  _ kisses him. It’s the most chaste of all his first kisses, but the moment Cas’ lips touch his, Dean’s entire world comes crashing down. They trade slow kisses, a gentle exploration of each other’s mouths. Dean didn’t expect this. He certainly didn’t expect for his knees to go weak from a kiss with no tongue, but that’s what Cas does to him. Cas gets his hands in Dean’s hair, tugs on it when he deepens the kiss, licking along the seam of Dean’s mouth. 

Dean groans into his mouth, because yeah, that’s fucking exactly what he’s been wanting, and Dean’s already intoxicated by him. He wants so much, he wants everything. Dean moves himself closer, until they are flush together and Dean can feel every part of Cas’ body pressed against him. He’s half-hard against Dean’s thigh and that’s... that’s good. 

Cas’ lips drop from Dean’s mouth to his neck, and he kisses him there, open-mouthed and more tongue than kiss, and that gets Dean rocking against him. 

It’s when Cas starts to fall over a little that Dean remembers, right, broken leg. Cas wanted a shower. 

“Do you... even still want to shower?” Dean asks, laughing. 

Cas starts giggling and it turns into a nearly double-over laughter as he holds onto Dean, their bodies still pressed together. 

“Only if you’ll help me,” Cas replies. 

Dean’s quirks a confused eyebrow, “I have been helping.”

Cas gives him a look that’s full of heat and fire, and Dean feels it all the way into his gut. 

_ Oh. _

“Oh, yeah... I’ll... I can do that,” Dean says, voice stuttering a little when he realizes exactly what Cas means. 

Cas leans back in and presses a lingering kiss against his mouth. “Get a washcloth then.”

Dean does as he’s told, regretfully releasing Cas from his arms. He comes back as quick as he can, and instantly gets some soap on the cloth, lathering it up a bit. 

“I’m gonna start on your back, okay?” Dean says. He thinks he should be more nervous about this, about actually being allowed to touch Cas now, but he’s not, he’s just excited about all the possibilities. 

“Okay, and Dean?”

“Hmm?”

“Do anything you wish, I trust you,” Cas says, craning his neck over his shoulder to smile at Dean. 

Dean doesn’t answer, reaches out and rests his palm on Cas’ shoulder instead. He steps back in under the shower, shivering at the contrast of the hot water dousing his skin. Just like the first time, he starts at the top of Cas’ spine. Now, though, Dean kisses him first, right at the base of his neck, reaching up to tangle a hand into his hair. He lets it slip out and starts scrubbing the expanse of his back, making a zig-zag pattern across his spine. Dean doesn’t falter when he reaches the swell of Cas’ ass, doesn’t go any lower either. Instead, he glides the cloth over Cas’ right side, along his ribcage, and moves up his chest with a slow hand. Dean wraps an arm around Cas’ middle, stepping in close until the entire front of his body lines Cas’. 

“Dean,” Cas breathes, like he’s precious, like he’s everything to him. Cas could say his name like that a thousand times, and Dean would never get tired of hearing it. 

Dean mouths at Cas’ neck with wet kisses as he gently starts to move the cloth all over Cas’ chest. Cas leans back into him as he washes his chest and the suds run off swirling down his thighs. Dean pauses on Cas’ nipples, can’t help himself, and teases them, rolling the nubs underneath the pad of his thumb. Cas whines low in the back of his throat and Dean chuckles. 

“You like that?”

“Mhmm,” Cas murmurs. He arches into Dean’s touch when Dean does it again, a little harder this time, and Cas bites his bottom lip. 

Dean finishes with Cas’ chest and thinks of dipping down, getting Cas’ cock finally in his hand, but it doesn’t feel right. Not right this second, right here. He moves the cloth and places it into one of Cas’ hands. Dean thinks Cas understands; at any rate, he smiles a little, and takes the washcloth from Dean. 

He watches Cas while he finishes cleaning up, not able to take his eyes off of him, and getting more turned on by the fact that he’s allowed to look now. It doesn’t take him long, but once he’s done, he tosses the cloth into their combined pile of clothing. Cas slips his fingers between Dean’s where they’re rested on his stomach and turns his head to the left. 

“Thank you,” Cas whispers, and kisses him, full of heat and Dean wants to drown in him right here. 

“Like I said, anytime,” Dean replies. 

“Does that mean you’ll shower with me all the time then? Because I have a few ideas,” Cas says. He’s rubbing the top of Dean’s hand with his thumb and it’s both comforting and infuriating all at the same time. A low thrum of arousal has been thrumming through him this entire time. 

“Oh you do, do you?” Dean asks. 

“Yes, but right now I want to touch you,” Cas says, even though they’re already touching, but Dean knows what he means and it sends an excited shiver through his body.

“Here?” 

“No, not here,” Cas says. That means they have to wait, but Dean agrees. For one thing, it would be difficult for Cas to do much trying to stand up, and the thought of Cas being in bed with him is everything Dean has wanted for so long.

“Where?”

“Your room.” Cas smiles then. They’ve both been thinking about this for so long; it’s amazing neither of them went crazy over each other. 

“Okay, yeah... that’s good, let’s get dried off,” Dean says. 

They walk back over to the ledge where the towels are, as they have the past few times. This time though, once they stop, Dean presses a chaste kiss against Cas’ forehead as he wraps the towel around his shoulders. 

Cas leans into it, and when Dean opens his eyes, Cas is staring up at him and Dean finally allows himself to truly look at him and see the devotion engraved there. 

Cas sits down on the shower chair so that Dean can take the bag off of his leg. At this point, they both know that Cas could do most of this himself, but that’s nothing compared to their hands on each other. 

Dean kneels in front of him, lets himself touch Cas this time, run his palms down the muscles of his thighs. He gets a little thrill out of the inhale Cas intakes when he does, and how he licks his lips, looking down at Dean. Dean smirks and leans down, kissing his knee as he starts to undo the tape keeping the bag on. 

Once Cas is bag-free, they head towards Dean’s room together. They don’t bother with clothing; they are the only ones home, after all. But Dean is never going to forget the sight of Cas walking down the hallway naked with crutches and a bright green cast on his leg. 

With a little fuss, they end up in Dean’s bed, bodies entangled together, kissing with real intent now, hands curiously exploring each other. Dean suddenly freezes, right when Cas is sucking a mark onto his collarbone, as a thought pops into his head.

“How are we going to do this? I don’t wanna hurt you,” Dean asks, running a worried hand down the length of Cas’ thigh, which is so much more muscular to the touch than he imagined. 

“I want you to ride me,” Cas says, like he’s thought about this. Dean  _ almost  _ doesn’t choke on his own tongue. 

“Fuck,” is what he manages to say because that’s like the best fucking idea ever. 

He’s had dreams about what it would feel like to have Cas inside him, but to have the real thing? He might die. 

Cas grabs one of his hands during the middle of their long makeout sessions, flattens their palms together, and bends his fingers so Dean’s hand is trapped in his. 

He pulls back from Dean’s mouth and kisses the top of Dean’s hand. Dean’s eyes meet Cas’, blue drowning out everything else around him, and all the love reflected there hits Dean straight to his core, his entire world tilting. It’s dizzying, to feel loved this much. Dean’s been overwhelmed by sex before, but never like this, never from something so simple as a chaste kiss on his hand. 

He’s never been one to draw sex out, usually a one and done sort of guy, but he’s never gotten to have  _ this  _ before. The chance to be with someone who means more to him than he will ever be able to express, which is okay. Cas knows, and Dean knows that he does. 

Cas ends up on his back, arching back into the pillow, palms flat on Dean’s back as Dean sucks on his nipples. Dean takes his time, relishing in the whines and gasps he coaxes out of Cas with just his mouth. He’s so responsive, arching into Dean. As Dean slides further down Cas’ body, Cas’ hands slip into his hair, tugging on the short strands as Dean kisses him everywhere he can. Dean’s never been into leaving his mark on people he’s been with, but the expanse of Cas’ thighs draws him in. He leaves a trail of marks there that Cas will feels tomorrow.

“Dean,” Cas says, a kind of desperation in his tone Dean’s never heard before. 

At the sound of his name Dean looks up, and finds Cas staring back at him, pupils blown wide, panting. 

“Kiss me.”

It’s more of an order than a request and Dean groans, moving to kiss his way back up Cas’ body until he reaches his mouth. 

Cas’ palm glides along his cheek while they kiss, kisses turning softer. He pulls back just to look at Dean. 

“Next time, when I’m not so desperate and hopefully not as injured, I need to show you how much I love you.”

His words still Dean and he finds he doesn’t have the words for everything bubbling up inside him. 

“Cas,” Dean says, voice breaking on his name. 

“Can you open yourself up for me? I want to watch,” Cas orders, voice quiet but affirmative and Dean’s skin tingles at all the implications of how much he loves this. 

There’s lube in the drawer next to his bed, and Dean hastily crawls across the bed to retrieve it. He settles back in on the center of the bed, laying himself out, then pauses, unsure.

“Where do you want me?” Dean asks.

“Right there is perfect,” Cas says. He turns a little in bed, facing Dean so they’re parallel, and rolls over onto his side, resting his head on his palm. 

Dean skin burns under the attention, the way Cas’ eyes seem to soak through his skin, staring right into the depths of his soul. Cas has always looked at him like that. 

Dean keeps his eyes on Cas and spreads his legs, feeling more vulnerable than he has in his entire life. Cas watches him in a mix of curiosity and adoration. 

“Go slow,” Cas whispers, and Dean swallows thick, nodding. 

The lube is cold on his fingers and he moves it around between them first before slipping one of his fingers between his legs and slowly starting to work it inside himself. Cas sucks in a sharp gasp while he watches, eyes darting between Dean’s fingers where he’s starting to fuck himself and wanting to watch Dean’s face. 

“You’re beautiful,” Cas says, voice quiet  He reaches out to drag his palm along Dean’s side, tracing a line down to the curve of his hip. 

“Shut up,” Dean mutters, an instantaneous blush creeping up his neck. 

“No,” Cas says, earnest, meeting Dean’s eyes with his own, “you are.”

And for the first time, Dean believes it.

Dean’s panting by the time he’s got two fingers easily fucking in and out of himself; his cock is aching, unattended and pressed up against his stomach. He’s almost ready, but Cas is still just watching him. Maybe he could watch Dean finger himself for hours. A groan leaves Dean’s mouth just thinking about it. He starts working another finger in, trying not to be impatient, but Dean’s never wanted someone inside him so bad. 

“I’m almost ready.”

“Come here,” Cas says, voice soft, and he holds out a hand for Dean to take. 

Dean’s hands are shaking as he straddles Cas’ hips. He’s careful of Cas’ leg, even though Cas  himself is overeager. His hands instantly grasp at Dean’s hips, cock bumping against Dean’s thigh. 

Dean rises up just enough, moves Cas’ hand so he can get the angle right, and helps Cas push inside him nice and slow until he’s all the way in. Dean takes a deep breath, stares down at Cas, and asks, “You good?”

“Perfect.”

“Good,” Dean says, with a grin, and starts to rock his hips. 

Cas tries to help him move, but Dean just shakes his head, uses his thighs and gets a good rhythm going of fucking himself down on Cas’ cock. 

Dean doesn’t know where to put his hands, but Cas figures it out for him. He takes ahold of one of Dean’s hands where it rests on his chest, right over his heart, and tangles their fingers together. 

Dean feels tears prick at his eyes, and he squeezes Cas’ hand, leaning down to kiss him while they fuck, Cas so thick and full inside him. 

Dean feels Cas getting close by the way his thighs start to tremble underneath Dean. He takes their joined hands and moves them to wrap around his own cock, giving Cas control. Dean moves his hips in time with the stroke of Cas’ hand. Cas falls first, entire body shaking as his orgasm rocks through him. Dean rocks his hips through it, following soon after the moment Cas whines and kisses him, whispering Dean’s name against his mouth. They come down slow together, both shaking and overstimulated, Dean’s every nerve hypersensitive.

Dean rolls off of him, unwilling to break physical contact; he moves so he and Cas are pressed close chest to chest and facing each other. They kiss, soft and sweeter than Dean has ever kissed anyone in his life. He wraps his arm around Cas’ waist, and Cas cups Dean’s cheek with his palm, thumb gliding down Dean’s jaw. 

“I love you,” Cas says, voice soft. His hand drops down from Dean’s cheek to rest flat on his chest right over the gentle thump of his heart. 

“Sap,” Dean teases. He laughs when that gets him an exaggerated eye roll. “I love you too,” Dean says, kissing the tip of Cas’ nose, and snuggling in closer. 

Cas wraps his legs around Dean’s, tangling their bodies together until they’re pressed, flushed, and Dean is completely surrounded by only Cas. 


	7. Epilogue

**Spring**

Brown soil slips soft and pliant between Cas’ fingers, warmed from the heat of the sun shining down. A slight breezes tickles the back of his neck, and he leans down as he scoops up a handful of dirt and uses two fingers to push a tiny seed into the hole he’s created. He covers it back up with a little pat atop the mound, and scoots over a few inches on his knees, repeating the process. A dozen feet away in a brick-lined garden, baby sunflowers peek up out of the dirt, reaching their tiny green leaves up towards the sunlight. The plains stretch out in every direction past them, blue sky as far as the eye can see, tall grass whistling in the wind. Cas pauses, rests back on his heels, and shields his eyes from the sun. 

It’s really starting to come together. 

He adjusts the brim of his sunhat, the one Dean bought for him a few weeks ago at the local Wal-Mart. It was a surprise, a present for the season, Cas’ first planting of his new garden. Dean had hidden it behind his back and stopped Cas in the kitchen one morning, unceremoniously plopping it on his head, with a satisfied grin. He’d kissed the confused look off of Cas’ face and said, “I can’t believe I found myself a sexy farmer.”

Cas rolled his eyes, walked Dean back until he was pressed up against the pantry and kissed him, not letting him go until they both were breathless for air. 

It’s been a few months now, the two of them officially _ a thing. _ Cas has never been happier than he is right now in all the millions of years of his life. 

A shadow crosses his vision in front of the field, bowlegs prominent even in shadow, and Cas smiles, turning to look up at Dean. He’s illuminated in the sun, grinning down at Cas and holding out a fresh glass of cold lemonade to him. 

“How’s it going?” Dean asks, kneeling down next to him. He starts to examine all the little perfectly shaped mounds Cas created, the soft smile on his face growing. 

“Tedious.”

Dean snorts, “Unfortunately we have to wait for them to grow.”

“Unfortunately. I wish it could be full of life already, but that takes away from the process.”

“Process?” Dean asks.

“If you force it, something will go wrong, and the plants won’t grow. You have to do everything right. I like it, in a way. It reminds me of the creation of earth, that was tedious too,” Cas says. 

Dean looks at him for a moment like he’s speaking another language, like he’s still something ethereal and not just a regular old human like Dean is. 

“You need to tell me that story,” Dean says. He reaches up and toys with the brim of Cas’ hat, flipping it back so he can look at Cas’ face better. There’s an endearing look on his face, a softness in his eyes that has been ever-present since that night so many months ago. Cas hopes it never leaves. 

“It’s very long,” Cas replies with a little shrug. 

“Well, we have time.”

“That we do.”

Dean grins, and dips his hand into the dirt at his feet, a bare patch, then eyes the seeds Cas has held tight in his palm, “You want some help?”

“Always.”

Dean settles next to him, gets his knees into the dirt at Cas’ side, and watches while Cas shows him the proper way to create the space for each seed. He’s attentive, does it perfectly on the first try, and together they start up a system of alternating between creating the space for the seed, placing it in, then covering it back up. 

This garden won’t take ten years to grow, but in a few months it will be vibrant and bright. Every carefully constructed row will be bursting with new life and blossoming into something beautiful and long-awaited for. 

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Philotimo](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18109937) by [Lysel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lysel/pseuds/Lysel)




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